


The Hollow of Our Minds

by guuzenkamo



Series: Adventures in Ireland [1]
Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Canon-Atypical Lack of Violence, Fairy Tale Elements, Light-Hearted, Magic, Multi, Murder Mystery, Not Light-Hearted At Some Parts, Original Character(s), Out of Character, Silly, Slow Build, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-21
Updated: 2016-06-08
Packaged: 2018-04-22 15:44:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 48,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4841105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guuzenkamo/pseuds/guuzenkamo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Completely random AU with the most random decisions, changes, magic and monsters. Setting: somewhere in Ireland. Only read this if you’re truly bored and have nothing else to do. Seriously, it's not even humorous. OOC.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Previously titled "Truths and Lies" (that title felt too generic). Current title references "Pray for Rain" by Massive Attack.
> 
> Izaya is an informant - informants in this universe are trained mind-readers employed by the government to aid with crime investigation and civil conflict resolutions. They can also be privately contracted to establish truth between two parties. Izaya cannot walk and relies on a wheelchair, Shizuo’s back or a horse to move around.
> 
> Shizuo is indebted to Izaya and has to serve him for ten years. 
> 
> Do not expect this to make much sense or follow any reasonable path. This is just a mystery story I made up and used my two favorite characters to travel through it. Honestly, this is just me vomiting some weird ideas that don’t leave my head unless I type them out.
> 
> Huge thanks to _indridason_ for proof-reading and holding my hand.  <3

The sunflower fields stretched far, farther than Shizuo could see. The flush of the green blended rich with the golden heads that looked up towards the setting sun that had been relentless in its assault on them. They rode on under that sun for hours, and it was too hot for any coherent thoughts, the only thing on Shizuo’s mind being the nagging anticipation of finally reaching the river. According to the map Izaya sketched, they had to be there soon.

He briefly wondered if he would have been less hot if it weren’t for the small body that pressed against him in front, but Izaya’s temperature was perpetually cooler than his, and so the real loser was probably him. That thought brought Shizuo some weak measure of satisfaction, because it was unfair that Izaya got to sleep when Shizuo stayed awake. His head was thrown back against Shizuo’s shoulder, fine hair tickling Shizuo’s cheek, but this proximity was nothing new. They had always traveled like this, Shizuo’s arms framing around the man’s torso so he didn’t fall, and Izaya had always slept a lot. When awake, he would talk non-stop, and Shizuo would be unhappy about that. When the man was asleep, however, Shizuo was irritated with the fact that Izaya was so darn comfortable when Shizuo wasn’t. There really was no winning for Shizuo.

When they finally reached the river, Shizuo stopped to give Swallow her well-deserved rest. A horse that carried two people needed a lot of water and snacks not to be grumpy, especially if you considered the fact that Swallow wasn’t a horse to begin with. Shizuo carefully lowered Izaya on the grass, and the barely awake informant blinked sleepily, disoriented. After giving the fields and the river a quick scan of the red eyes, Izaya went on to lay his head down on the soft grass, promptly falling asleep without uttering a single word.

Silence was good by Shizuo.

He looked over at Swallow peacefully grazing on the meadow, then at the line of the horizon above the sunflower heads. The dusk was slowly falling, painting the sky dark shades of purple. He enjoyed this part of their travels the most. Being out in the open was comforting, in that peaceful way that Shizuo had always sought in life. There were no people around to enrage him, and even though the one person he hated the most was right next to him, he couldn’t hurt Izaya any more or even get very angry at him.

Too many things had changed for them since the time he damaged Izaya’s spine enough for him to lose the control of his legs. There were a lot of reasons for why Shizuo served Izaya now. The first and foremost had to do with Izaya saving Shizuo’s brother from a death sentence — the price for that favor was a servitude of ten years, but it only took two months into their contract before Shizuo snapped and beat Izaya up badly enough to cripple him. That day, Izaya’s sword wasn’t within his reach and he was caught so off-guard that for the first time in his life Shizuo actually managed to reach the man to hurt him.

Before that incident, Shizuo had never thought that he would feel guilty about messing Izaya up. That overwhelming amount of regret was what made him agree to magically bind himself to Izaya. The ten years that he had to serve Izaya were now ingrained into the core of his being, and the spell that tied them together made it impossible for Shizuo to disobey a direct order from the man. It was mind-boggling that Shizuo’s world came to this state of affairs, but Shizuo only had to remember the horror in Izaya’s eyes when the man realized he couldn’t walk again to know why the spell had to be in place. No one deserved that, and as much as Shizuo hated to admit it, especially not the man that single-handedly saved his little brother. Of course, Izaya only did that for the chance to own Shizuo, but whatever his twisted reasoning was, he did save Kasuka.

It had been a year since that happened, leaving eight years and ten months for him to serve. It really wasn’t as terrible as Shizuo dreaded at the start. Having to obey Izaya’s words was maddening, but surprisingly, Izaya rarely resorted to explicitly commanding him. He always carefully phrased his words in a way where Shizuo had the freedom of choice (”If you’d like, you could go to the market and see if they’re selling oranges”), and Shizuo was secretly grateful for that. Sometimes he even refused to do something, and Izaya would leave it at that. The only times Izaya deemed it necessary to force Shizuo’s will was when their morals disagreed. Izaya was an informant — a mind-reader, a man who could read the truth in anyone’s eyes. It was a profession created for the sake of resolving legal disputes, but it went further than that. Town sheriffs frequently contracted informants to prove or disprove certain facts that citizens claimed, similarly to the way they employed the town witches to analyze crime scenes for them. Magic was a normal part of everyday life, after all, and Izaya frequently toyed with people in his line of work, much to Shizuo’s irritation.

Shizuo had only met two other informants that weren’t Izaya. Both of them were gloomy and depressed, looking like withering shells of human bodies rather than someone whole, and that was a stark contrast to the enthusiasm Izaya felt for his occupation. The years of experimentation one had to go through to gain the ability to read minds continually deterred new applicants, while the existing informants were prone to being suicidal. Izaya once noted that it had to do with the fact that mind-readers delved deep into the souls of people, and not everyone could handle seeing the less attractive truths of the human nature. Izaya himself had always been unnaturally obsessed with loving humans unconditionally, so Shizuo wasn’t surprised that whatever sights he saw in people’s minds never got to him.

With heavy thoughts about Izaya and his own indentured servitude, Shizuo draped a blanket over the sleeping man and fell asleep a few feet away from him, the informant’s safety a constant worry in his mind. That pressing anxiety over Izaya’s well-being was also part of the spell. Magic couldn’t affect emotions, but it could ingrain compulsion — Shizuo’s actions had to align themselves with a certain belief in his mind that was put there by the spell. Izaya had to be safe, from Shizuo’s violence or the rest of the world’s.

He woke up much later to something sharp stabbing him between the ribs. Jolting up-right, he hid a sigh of relief at the sight of an unharmed Izaya who was sitting still and looking at him unamused, a small branch in his hands that he used to poke Shizuo with. He could have crawled over to hit Shizuo, but Izaya was proud. Shizuo had never seen him crawl.

“Swallow got stolen, Shizu-chan,” Izaya said coldly. His arms were propped behind him against the grass, supporting his body up-right. “I keep making the mistake of trusting you to guard our belongings, and Shizu-chan just has to keep failing me, doesn’t he?”

Shizuo looked around and saw that Izaya was right. Swallow was nowhere in sight. “How do you know she was stolen?” Shizuo protested, standing up and brushing dirt specks off his pants. “Maybe she finally had enough of you and ran away.”

“Swallow wouldn’t leave me,” Izaya smirked confidently. “You have to go get her. She could easily break free from any living creature, but she is not going to come back unless an effort was made to return her. You know how she is.”

Oh, Shizuo knew _all_ about Swallow’s playful temper. After all, he was the one who had to tend to her whims.

“Well, which way did they go?” Shizuo asked, looking around. The tall sunflower heads were nodding under the wind, blocking the view, and the night air chilled his skin. It got cold real fast in Irish nights. “I can’t just check every possible direction from here.”

Izaya theatrically sighed. “Read the ground, Shizu-chan. It tells you _everything_.” He leaned forward and pointed at a spot in the ground. “That is us arriving here. Do you see yourself getting off Swallow and carrying me over here?”

Shizuo nodded, his mood growing dismal. Izaya was always such a prick when he explained things.

“And that right there is someone else saddling her,” Izaya waved his hand dismissively towards the river. “I can’t see well enough from here to read it for sure, but I will rely on you once again. Don’t you disappoint me again, Shizu-chan.”

Shizuo bit back on whatever insult he was going to spit and walked down the slope towards where Izaya pointed. In the small strip of white sand next to the river there were a few faint but certain prints of hooves and a man’s pair of boots. Shizuo didn’t know much about tracking, but the prints seemed freshly indented, as if not much time had passed since they were made — they pointed east.

He climbed back up and looked at Izaya worriedly. Even though he rarely looked Izaya in the eyes — informants could only read minds through an established eye contact — Izaya correctly identified the source of Shizuo’s worries.

“Just go, Shizu-chan. If you carry me while running, it’ll only delay you. I want my Swallow back,” Izaya said with a note of possessiveness. He was always overly enamored with the creature.

Shizuo nodded and inwardly cursed himself for being so reckless that he didn’t hear someone approaching them. Izaya’s sword was tied to Swallow’s saddle, and that meant that Shizuo was leaving him unprotected in the middle of nowhere. With a heavy heart that he knew he only had because of the effects of the spell, he left Izaya alone and ran towards the east.

 

!

 

It wasn’t long before Shizuo came back. He could run faster than almost all creatures Izaya knew about, and that said a lot, considering how many different kinds of monsters wandered around on Earth.

Izaya heard the rustle of the grass and saw the familiar forms of Shizuo and Swallow, the beautiful black horse with golden eyes that Izaya loved so much. Much to his surprise, there was another creature that followed after Shizuo through the parted blades of tall grass.

“You found yourself a vampire, Shizu-chan?” Izaya asked, unimpressed. For a second he was excited to meet another human, but once he saw the unnatural pallor of the man’s skin, he deflated. Except for the two monsters that accompanied him, monsters rarely filled him with anything but indifference.

“He stole Swallow,” Shizuo shrugged. Swallow trotted over to stand by Izaya in all her elegant grace, and he extended a hand out to pat her on the side.

“Why’d you let him follow you?”

“He said he needed to talk to you. I also didn’t know if I should beat him up? He didn’t really resist me taking Swallow back,” Shizuo rubbed at the back of his head. “Do we punish him for trying to steal our horse?”

“It’s not a horse,” the vampire corrected matter-of-factly, not a hint of shame or reservation on his face as if he didn’t just try to steal from them.

“Well, introduce yourself,” Izaya smiled at the vampire. It was a little annoying to have to look up to anyone when he was sitting down on the grass, but he had gotten used to it after a year. His eyes lingered on the black scabbard that was tied to the saddle, but Shizu-chan was right there so he had nothing to worry about. Vampires didn’t usually instill any kind of caution in him, but this was a rare vampire of the highest order; they actually posed a sizable threat. Shizuo could take on one, but Izaya wasn’t sure he could win a duel without his legs.

“I go by Radford,” the vampire said amiably. He must have heard about informants because he avoided looking Izaya in the eye. “The two of you are dangerous people.”

“Coming from a vampire of your caliber, that says something, I suppose,” Izaya said, sizing him up. It was rare that a vampire didn’t make an attempt to hide their vampirism. Vampires of the highest order were masters at shapeshifting and could assume any look they wanted, but this particular one didn’t seem to care to blend in. That made Izaya like him a little more. “I’m not going to punish you, Radford. You’re not human, so I have very little interest in you, actually. What is it that you wanted to talk to me about?”

“I’m a rather wealthy lord in a nearby county,” Radford explained, looking in Izaya’s general direction. “Forgive me if I don’t make eye contact with you, Mr. Informant. What I’m interested in is your servant’s blood. I am willing to offer you a large amount of money for it.”

Shizuo’s eyes widened at the words, anger burning in them. He always did hate being mistaken for a servant, but when Izaya asked what term he would prefer, he always stuttered or fumed in silence.

The vampire’s request did not surprise Izaya in the least. Shizuo’s body was so extraordinary, vampires always flew to him like moth to a flame, desperate to get a drop of the blood they claimed smelled so delicious. Usually they were more aggressive in their pursuit, some of them outright attacking Shizuo on sight, only to be thrown off like little babies. There was not a single vampire in the world that could defeat Shizuo.

“Absolutely not,” Izaya shook his head.

“Do you by chance realize what kind of money I am talking about?” Radford asked, surprised to be turned down.

In general, requests like this were normal. Some people’s blood was naturally more attractive to vampires, and those humans regularly sold their bloodcells for a pretty coin. Markets at any town that was big enough for people to coexist with vampires had stalls where blood was traded that way, and Radford, the naive vampire that he was, supposed that he was doing Izaya a favor. At least he correctly priced Shizuo’s blood as being truly unique.

“I don’t need money,” Izaya smiled. “There is no way I’m letting someone lay a hand on Shizu-chan, let alone touch him with their lips.”

It irritated him to think that vampires _smelled_ Shizuo’s blood; there was no way he was allowing one to drink from him. At least not for something trite like money.

“Hey,” Shizuo finally butted in, frowning. They were talking about his blood, after all. “Don’t fucking say it that way! People might get the wrong idea. What he means is he’s just possessive of things that _belong_ to him. The horse or me, it’s the same deal,” he explained to Radford, then added gruffly. “Sorry, dude, I really don’t want anyone drinking from me. Don’t push your luck, y’know? Normally I would’ve beaten you to a pulp, but I’m especially peaceful tonight.”

“I see,” Radford nodded, though he looked remarkably perplexed. “You’re a very strange duo. Two people traveling alongside a puca *, equally nonchalant about talking to a thief and equally indifferent about money. If you ever find yourself in Cork, please pay me a visit if you need a place to stay.”

He hesitated for a second, looking over at the black horse by Izaya’s side. “If I may ask, how did a human get a puca to do their bidding? When I took ahold of her, she refused to shapeshift to have a conversation…”

“It’s a secret,” Izaya waved his hand. “I’m sorry, Lord Radford, but you ask too many questions.”

“Point taken. Farewell,” the vampire said without taking any offense and withdrew into the grass, disappearing from sight.

With the vampire gone Shizuo let his guard down, immediately running over to Izaya’s side. There was that annoying care in the brown eyes that Izaya knew wasn’t real. “Everything alright? While I was gone, nothing—?”

“Yes, Shizu-chan. In the future please try not to sleep through a robbery, or at least warn me so we can take shifts, yeah?”

Shizuo muttered an apology, looking down. Sometimes Izaya really hated having tamed the beast, even if he intentionally limited the duration to ten years. He had toyed with the idea of enslaving Shizuo for life, but he discarded that thought instantly, aware of his own desire to see Shizuo unrestrained.

What irritated him about Shizuo’s care was the fact that it was fake. When they contracted a witch to put the spell between them, Izaya never imagined that the magic of it would make Shizuo act this way — he thought he would simply have control over Shizuo’s actions, and he wasn’t even planning to exercise that unless necessary or in self-defense. He couldn’t predict Shizuo suddenly changing in attitude like this.

He glanced at the blanket covering his unresponsive legs, and the smile on his face was probably a little too bitter.

 

!

 

They arrived to the town of Killarney at dawn.

People were slowly filling up the cobblestone streets, as their horse trudged through the main street. Shizuo scanned the narrow winding streets, watching people tend to their daily tasks. The milkman was going door to door, little kids ran out of doors before their parents did, and a delicious smell of fresh bread spread through the air, making Shizuo’s mouth fill up with saliva.

Izaya was awake, for once, leaned against him. Shizuo couldn’t see his face because he was sitting behind him on the saddle, but he could almost imagine the lines of Izaya’s expression in his head. It was most likely bored, his eyes lowered, but engaged nevertheless, probably lingering on every single human in the vicinity.

Swallow had been rather fiesty after she almost got stolen. When they stopped by the inn, she neighed impatiently, signalling them to get the hell off of her. Shizuo jumped off, then offered his back to Izaya, and the informant slipped from the saddle, wrapping his arms around Shizuo’s neck. He carried Izaya this way between destinations, though for longer walks they used a wheelchair.

At first, Izaya was really upset about this arrangement even if he tried not to show it — after all, he had to ride piggyback like a little child, but over the time it appeared to have grown on him, and Shizuo realized that Izaya had a childlike side to him. He would tug on Shizuo’s hair, impatient, or tighten the grip around the neck when he was irritated, and those were reflections of Izaya’s real feelings. Shizuo would find it easier to hate those little childlike fits if they didn’t feel so genuine. Instead, he usually inwardly laughed to see the man who was supposed to be so powerful acting in such a way.

At the inn, he put Izaya down at a table in the farthest corner of the establishment. Izaya disliked attention unless he went seeking for it, and the two of them always somehow managed to attract attention. Informants were not liked, their existence only deemed necessary by the government alone, and Shizuo was too often associated with a monster to be receiving a warm welcome. Ireland was a country generally friendlier with monsters than the rest of the world (part of the reason why they moved here from Japan), but wherever they went, trouble still seemed to find them, one way or another.

“Why are people so nosy,” Shizuo grumbled under his breath, plopping down at the bench across Izaya. He brought plates for both of them and nudged Izaya’s towards him, watching his small nose scrunch up a little at the plainness of the inn’s choice of menu.

“Because they’re bored,” said Izaya immediately, without much thought. “Wouldn’t you be bored, if you lived in the middle of nowhere?”

Izaya tilted his head, never looking at Shizuo directly as they had agreed a long time ago. Shizuo, in turn, stared into the man’s eyes quite frequently. They were unique. Only informants had those red streaks that shot through the dark brown.

“If I were free from you, I’d live anywhere,” Shizuo said, not without venom.

The informant ignored the remark.

“Do we even have time to be eating? Didn't we have some urgent business to attend to?” Shizuo asked, greedily biting into the meat, not bothering to use silverware. He truly did look like some barbarian monster, chicken juice dripping off his fingers and mouth. Izaya wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Stop staring at me, you freak.”

“I’m not looking into your eyes,” Izaya poked at the grilled chicken on his plate, deep in thoughts. “But to answer your question, Lorest is not going anywhere. In fact, I’m happy if the news of us coming reaches his ears before we go to visit him.”

“Why’s that.”

“Because I want to watch him dance in horror,” Izaya grinned maliciously. “It’s better if he is expecting us.”

Shizuo shook his head in disapproval and focused on the food. Whoever that Lord Lorest was, he was about to get royally fucked if Izaya looked this evil. He mentioned the lord a few times before, but nothing specific came to mind. Shizuo paid little attention to Izaya’s games.

The men continued with their dinner in silence. Towards the end of their meal, a man with a face full of scars tapped Izaya on his shoulder. Shizuo noted, not without satisfaction, that Izaya’s smirk disappeared in an instant. His “companion” hated being touched above everything.

“Hey freak! No one wants your kind here!” the man hiccuped, and Izaya’s face lost color from the stench that came with the man’s breath. The drunk pulled on the informant’s shoulder, forcing him off balance and off the table bench he was sitting on. Izaya was, after all, ridiculously lightweight.

Landing hard on his ass, Izaya sat still, remaining where he was. He looked like a big baby who didn’t know anything but sitting, his legs sprawled out and his arms idle at his sides. The drunk jumped back, assuming some sort of battle pose. He was obviously expecting Izaya to put up some fight, unaware of the fact that Izaya couldn’t get up. Shizuo watched the show with a bemused smile, though the spell that bound the both of them pulled at his heart. He could resist helping Izaya for a little bit longer, enjoying the show. After all, a drunken townsman wasn’t much of a threat.

“Hey, Shizu-chan,” Izaya called, lazily staring at his boots. “Just what do I pay you for?”

Shizuo put down his cup with an intentionally heavy sigh and got up. “Leave the lady alone,” he said to the drunk, slowly moving to stand between Izaya and the random aggressor.

The drunk threw a punch, but the hit was laughably easy to dodge. Shizuo stepped to the side and tapped the man on the back of his head. That alone was enough to send the man sleeping on the floor for a good few hours. The innkeeper carefully made his way to deal with the commotion and begrudgingly apologized to Izaya for the trouble. Shizuo detected some poorly hidden contempt in the innkeeper’s voice as if he was at at fault for what happened, but before he could get riled up over it, Izaya held out his hand and called him.

“What?” Shizuo pretended to be clueless.

“Help me up,” Izaya said, his voice hurt.

Unable to ignore the order, Shizuo yanked him up and put him back on the bench, the force of the pull forcing a squeak out of Izaya’s mouth.

“And be gentle,” Izaya pouted. “I’m not necessarily in a good mood, see?”

“How scary,” Shizuo muttered under his breath.

He wasn’t in a good mood either. People’s whispers and the innkeeper’s unwelcoming stare were really starting to get on his nerves. Izaya signaled him it was time to go, before any more locals were upset, but before they could leave, a young woman came dancing towards them. She tugged on Izaya’s sleeve and looked at him sheepishly, and Shizuo stared at the girl in shock. No one usually approached Izaya out of the blue like that.

“Little miss, aren’t you scared of us?” Izaya asked curiously, switching to English.

“I… overheard some of your talk, good man,” the girl spoke up, her eyes shifting between him and Shizuo. “Before the little brawl, I mean.”

She fidgeted on her feet nervously. Shizuo wondered if it was some local crazy, since people very rarely willingly approached an informant unless they were drunk out of their mind like the guy who was now warming the floor. He had a bad feeling about all this, but he rarely interjected in Izaya’s chatter. His sole role was to protect the informant from physical dangers, and he trusted Izaya to defend himself from a little girl. Still, he couldn’t help but carefully track the girl’s movements, for the oddness of the situation alarmed him. This was far more irregular than a drunk.

“Eavesdropping is pretty rude, you know. Don’t you realize who I am?” Izaya asked. There was no hubris in the question. People simply tended to avoid informants like the plague, and for a good reason.

“You’re an informant,” the girl said breezily, shifting from one foot to another playfully. “But I’m not afeared of you.”

Izaya chuckled. “What a rare occurrence. So who might you be?”

“I am Lord Jay Lorest’s daughter, good sir.”

And she looked it, Shizuo thought. Her clothes were neat and well-sewn, and her fair skin looked squeaky clean, unlike anyone else at the inn.

Izaya brought his hands together as if he was about to start clapping. He seemed incredibly amused by the unfolding events, and Shizuo felt like hitting him — he wished that he didn’t because that desire made the spell draw his veins like the strings of an instrument about to snap, as if warning him not to feel those urges.

“My, my. How could I forget you. Miss Aira, right? You’ve grown up quite a bit. You’re even more reckless than I thought,” Izaya laughed. “Come with us, little girl. Your father and I need to have a talk. You can fight, but Shizu-chan here is more powerful than this entire town put together. So come with us willingly,” he repeated, his menacing tone dropping in pitch. It was supposed to be threatening, and to any normal person it would be, yet the girl stood unfazed.

She sighed, as if Izaya was the madman. “I know you wanted to get back at my father, but Lord Lorest is dead. Has been for a bit now.”

Izaya narrowed his eyes. She avoided his gaze, but people’s murmurs around them confirmed her words. Everyone was nodding, engaged in the odd show that was happening in front of them.

“I see,” Izaya said, acknowledging that the girl probably wasn’t lying. “It's a real shame he got himself murdered before I got the chance to talk to him. A recent event, I take it? I received a letter from him only a week ago.”

The girl nodded, seemingly unaffected by Izaya’s lack of any real human feelings. Like sympathy, Shizuo thought to himself, and pitied the girl. She was dealing with a real piece of shit.

“The sheriff take a look at it yet?”

“That’s precisely why I wanted to talk to you, Mr. Informant! The sheriff’s about to close the investigation… He says there are no leads, but…” the girl trailed off, looking sad. "I strongly disagree."

Izaya pursed his lips in frustration. Whatever plans he had, they had gone pretty awry with Lorest’s untimely death, and Shizuo couldn’t help but feel a little delight at the man’s frowned countenance.

“Why are you telling us this?” Izaya finally asked.

“Because I want to avenge my father!” she spoke, her hands curled in small fists by her sides. “My father was one of the Five Lords of the county of Kerry, and they’re just giving up on him!”

Izaya blinked in surprise. “You make little sense, girl. Why on Earth would we help you with something like that?”

“Can pay you good coin,” she offered. “Shelter and food, too.” Izaya looked unimpressed.

The girl fumbled with the hem of her dress. “And I think it’s interesting. I’ve dug up some information and stuff. I heard informants liked interesting things, right?”

“ _I_ do, yes. Your average informant doesn’t,” Izaya said. He turned to Shizuo. “Thoughts?”

“I want a bath,” Shizuo muttered. “Girl’s crazy. You’re crazy, too. Seems like you two would get along.”

Izaya laughed. “You’ll get your bath then. Fine, I’ll consider helping you once I hear the full story,” he said to the girl and patted her on the head, messing up her finely combed red hair. “How old are you now, anyway? Last I saw, you were pretty tiny.”

“Eighteen, good sir,” the girl reported, stiffening at the man’s touch.

“Relax, we don’t hurt women or children,” Izaya said, noticing that for the first time, the girl looked a bit scared.

“I’m not a child,” she protested, but looked relaxed again. “Who is your companion, Mr. Informant?” Her gaze fell on Shizuo, and he felt a little uncomfortable under the scrutinizing intensity of her green eyes. The girl was very pretty, Shizuo noted to himself not without his cheeks flushing with red. He was twenty-one years old himself, so the girl was around his age.

“His name is Shizuo,” Izaya said. “You have a lot of nerve, approaching us so boldly. Do we really look like good people to you?” Izaya’s reddish eyes flickered in the dim light of candles.

“Thought you scary before. Not since my father’s death, though.”

The girl looked around, then whispered. “We should head to my estate. No offense, but you guys don’t smell very good.” Izaya sulked, but couldn’t disagree. They were getting a lot of unwanted attention: a local noble woman chatting with them ought to stand out in a place as boring as an inn called The Little Goose.

When they left the inn, a giant gray dog came running at them, and Shizuo instinctively prepared to throw the beast away, wondering how he would go about stopping a beast like that when Izaya was on his back and he had to support the man’s legs with his arms. Before he could make a decision, the young girl opened her arms wide open and hugged the dog, welcoming the big drooling kisses that came with the embrace.

“How endearing,” Izaya commented, but his bored tone suggested that he wasn’t the least bit moved by the scene. There was a flashy carriage waiting outside, clearly meant for the crazy noble girl.

Izaya tugged at Shizuo’s hair, urging him to move on, and Shizuo carefully threw him on the saddle, jumping up and assuming the place behind the man right after. Izaya couldn’t ride a horse on his own, after all, the lack of proper leg support making it too dangerous.

Aira and the dog disappeared within the carriage, but not before the girl looked at them one last time with worry in her eyes, as if she still doubted the men were really going to help her.

Shizuo wondered if they were. He never knew what was on Izaya’s mind, but it didn’t matter, because he was obliged to follow him no matter what.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * The púca (Irish for spirit/ghost) is primarily a creature of Irish folklore. Considered to be bringers both of good and bad fortune, they could either help or hinder rural and marine communities. The creatures were said to be shape changers which could take the appearance of black horses, goats and rabbits. They may also take a human form, which includes various animal features, such as ears or a tail. (c) Wikipedia


	2. Chapter 2

At the mansion, the first thing on both of their minds was, of course, a bath and a change into fresh clothes. They had traveled for a few days without a stop, and both were itching to feel clean again.

Lorest’s bathing area was alike nothing else Izaya had seen before, a giant room with a huge tub in the middle of it. Tall shelves decorated each wall, all kinds of different bubble bottles resting on top of them, and considering the opulence of the mansion, there would definitely be no shortage of hot water. Izaya couldn’t wait to dip into the waters, and he moved anxiously on Shizuo’s back, gripping onto him a little too tightly.

“We’re here, relax,” Shizuo muttered when they entered the room, but Izaya knew that the man didn’t really mind his little fits on his back. He distantly wondered if it had to do with Shizuo’s mountainous amount of patience for children.

“We haven’t bathed in a week!” Izaya exclaimed, his chest fluttering with anticipation.

Shizuo lowered him on a bench, careful as always. Izaya’s legs dangled off the surface, motionless, and he held onto the edge of the bench for support. He was paralyzed from waist down and sometimes even sitting felt a little tricky, depending on the angle and the slipperiness of the surface. 

He knew how much the sight of his idle legs unnerved Shizuo, because the young man tried hard not to look at them. He squatted in front of Izaya and began undressing him, like he always did for their baths. Technically, Izaya could slip out of his shirt on his own, but Shizuo had to take everything else off so Izaya delegated the entire ordeal to him, leaning back against the wall and waiting for him to be done with it.

Shizuo always took the shirt off first. He unbuckled the suspenders and began undoing the buttons of the white cotton shirt. They wore western clothes in this land, in an effort to blend in with the crowd. For the first few months of their life here, Izaya was stubborn, wearing his traditional Japanese wardrobe, but getting attention based on his choice of clothing was more irritating than he had imagined.

After the shirt came the padded leather pants, then the underwear. When Shizuo had to do this for the first few times, it was awkward and it marked the first time Izaya was fully naked in front of another person, but a year later it was, of course, the norm. Izaya simply couldn’t bathe without another person’s help. Shizuo lifted Izaya off the bench in a way that would seem intimate for onlookers, pressing him firmly to his chest, his palms under Izaya's thighs, but that was simply the fastest way to carry him for short distances. He took him to the giant tub, placing him neatly in the corner of it so Izaya would have a surface to support himself from.

Izaya delighted at the right temperature when his body was submerged fully under the water. Hot, but not too hot to burn skin. The bubbles that he told Shizuo to use were citrus scented, and right about then life seemed amazing. He was getting clean, and the heat of the water soothed the tension in the muscles of his upper body that were always overworked.

Shizuo sat by the edge of the tub, eyes focused on Izaya’s movements, because somewhere along the way he had inconveniently picked up an irrational fear that the informant could randomly drown. 

Those were the side effects of the spell, forcing him to worry about Izaya. 

Izaya felt irritated at the thought. “Why don’t you join me?” he said, looking up at the man. “The tub is big enough for ten people.” Usually they took turns because the tubs they normally used could only accommodate one person comfortably, but Lord Lorest was that rich that they enjoyed a tub that was the size of a regular room in a normal house.

Shizuo didn’t hesitate for a second, eager to wash off the dirt from their journey. He quickly undressed and jumped inside the waters, splashing it everywhere. 

Izaya watched Shizuo enthusiastically rub his arms and torso, noting the lean muscles and the dampened blond hair that stuck to his face. Shizuo was an attractive man, he thought matter-of-factly. That was why Aira seemed to be so interested in him — the way her eyes lingered on him during their brief introduction. Izaya wasn’t particularly envious — he was frequently told he had a beautiful face, too, but women rarely paid him genuine attention after they learned who he was and what he did for a living. He used to play with people a lot more before, but ever since he lost the power of walking and moving around freely, his life revolved around Shizuo.

And as much as Izaya didn’t want to admit it, he had no complaints about that. 

He waited for Shizuo to be done with his own washing before he ordered him to wash his back and legs. 

 

!

 

In the morning, after they woke up and washed their faces, he took Izaya down to the dining area. The tables were laid out with food and shining silverware, and Aira was already there, seated at the far end of the long table.

She nodded at them gracefully when she saw Shizuo descending from the stairs, Izaya on his back. The girl seemed to have a different demeanor within the safety of her mansion, her head high up and none of that anxiety that Shizuo witnessed last night at the inn. She seemed confident at home.

“Good morning, gentlemen,” she greeted them officially, though her tone was still youthful and fresh. 

Izaya echoed a polite greeting back, while Shizuo kept quiet. He seated Izaya a few chairs away from Aira, then walked over to the tall windows of the dining area. He looked outside, scanning the surrounding area. There was nothing around but a giant field of grass and flowers, framed by a thick forest with tall trees that were so far that they looked dwarfish from where Shizuo was.

“My companion is so thorough, wouldn’t you say?” he heard Izaya’s lilting voice, as he made sure to check that nothing of danger was present outside. These kinds of checks he didn’t have to perform — the spell wasn’t strong enough that he’d feel sick if he didn’t — but it still made him feel better, more at ease.

“Please join us,” Aira nodded towards at a chair next to her when he turned around. She looked at Shizuo with curiosity, green eyes following his every movement. There was still that girlish flush across her cheeks that she seemed to acquire whenever her gaze fell on Shizuo.

Shizuo wondered why she seemed so into him. It wouldn’t be the first time women were interested in him, but in general, women seemed to fall quicker for Izaya at first, fooled by the delicate features of the man’s face and his put-on charms. Shizuo didn’t really see the appeal — Izaya was a flea, all skin and bones, add an ugly smirk to the list, and it was the last thing he’d probably want to see if he was a woman.

His heart burned under the pang of guilt when he thought on the fact that women had stopped being as interested in Izaya now that he was disabled.

“Where did you find such a loyal servant?” Aira turned to Izaya as she took a sip from her glass of wine. “You’re both from the Japanese islands, aren’t you?”

“Servant?” Shizuo spluttered, his voice dying in his throat. He had been in a rather good mood since the morning because he was clean and donned in fresh garments, but that was quickly killed by that comment. By the contract, Izaya was technically his master, but he preferred it if strangers thought of them as equals.

“Aren’t you…?” Aira asked, confused. “You protect your master, right?”

“Well, yeah,” Shizuo couldn’t argue there. “I’m more of a bodyguard kind of thing. I don’t obey his every order or anything.”

As blatant as lies went. In truth, it was incredibly painful and impossible for him to disobey direct orders from the informant. 

“Shizuo is, you could say, a friend by contract, with some additional obligations. He takes care of me, though not by choice,” Izaya explained cheerfully. “He actually rather hates me, if you could believe that.”

The honesty of their replies startled Aira a little bit, but she seemed rather used to oddities, instantly regaining her composure.

“Yeah, why would anyone hate you,” Shizuo retorted, looking down on his plate. “Can’t imagine a single reason.”

“To be honest, I assumed you were his servant because the informant never seems to look at you for too long,” Aira said to Shizuo, looking guilty over the comment. “It wasn’t much of anything else.”

“Oh, that’s because Shizu-chan doesn’t like me looking at him.”

“Because of your eyes, sir?”

“Mhm. Shizuo values his privacy, you see,” Izaya grinned. “In fact, it was one of the conditions in the contract. It’s one of my whims that I _mostly_ uphold that promise.”

He shifted in his seat to take something out of his pocket and threw a smoking pipe at Shizuo. Shizuo caught it and gave him a half-nod. A good smoke would calm his nerves, considering the insufferable topic at hand. He looked at Aira to make sure it was okay, and she enthusiastically gestured him to go ahead. 

“I guess an informant’s line of work is rather dangerous,” Aira hummed. “A competent bodyguard is useful.”

“A lot of people would like to see me very dead,” Izaya reported with childlike glee. He seemed to take pride in the fact that many out there would love to see his head on a spike. The image of Izaya’s head impaled on a stick shuddered Shizuo, since he was so used to Izaya being very much alive and grinning, but he grimly thought that the informant probably deserved to be dead more than most people did.

Aira turned to Izaya, growing serious. “Anyway, let us discuss the matter at hand. Will you talk to the sheriff about the murder of my father? I'm sure you could agree that it’s completely unreasonable that they’re making moves to close the investigation so quickly.”

“I suppose I will, since you let us stay here,” Izaya said without much emotion. “I have to see the sheriff anyway, to receive the list of ongoing conflicts that I need to resolve, now that I’m in the area.”

“Would you like me to tell you what happened that morning? When my father was found dead?” Aira asked, her voice a little too upbeat considering the topic of the conversation.

“Why are you so cheerful,” Shizuo grumbled under his breath and froze, mortified, realizing that he had voiced his thoughts out loud. Unlike Izaya who took joy observing “interesting” people, Shizuo was weirded out by abnormal reactions. He never meant to say those thoughts out loud though, so he hurried to clarify. “I mean, your dad just got murdered.”

Aira’s eyes fixed on Shizuo, and he deeply regretted saying anything. Perhaps he should stick to smoking his pipe.

“I took my time grieving,” she said curtly.

“Don’t take it personally. Shizu-chan tends to blurt things without thinking,” Izaya said apologetically, and Shizuo grew more irritated. The stupid pest didn’t need to apologize on his behalf.

The girl acknowledged the apology, but remained stiff in her seat. She seemed especially sad with Shizuo’s remark because of her presumed interest in him.

“Anyway,” she began, looking downcast, “I found him in his bedroom. The estate was oddly quiet that morning, and I knew from start that something was different that day. My father usually gets up early and is at the center of the attention. That morning though, he was nowhere to be seen. Servants said he never left the room. At first I thought he was just hungover from the previous night, since he stayed up late at night drinking with his guests. But when he still hadn’t left his room by noon, I went to check up on him and found him,” Aira stuttered, “i-in a rather exposed state.”

“You don’t need to describe it,” Izaya said. “Who were the guests?”

“Lord Radin and Lady Tamsin, of house Gaera. Their house is one of the Five Houses that are in political control of this area, just like ours. They actually visit pretty often. Or used to, I guess,” Aira corrected. “Now that I am the head of the estate, I doubt there will be many visitors.”

“You don’t suspect them at all?” Izaya gleaned from the way the girl talked about the couple.

“No,” the girl laughed. “They’re pretty darn old. What happened to my father… well, let’s say it wasn’t something a normal person could do, let alone a frail old one.”

“I’m assuming you have other suspects in mind,” Izaya said.

The girl nodded. “The town witch, her name is Iliana. She assists the sheriff with investigations, but she also helps folk with things like rat infestations, cattle diseases, and so on. Most people seem to love her,” Aira said not without indignation in her voice. She didn’t seem to harbor any positive feelings for the witch.

One of the doors quietly creaked, and the giant dog from before came running in. The dog ran past by Izaya’s seat, briefly nuzzled its head against Aira’s feet and then went on under the table to sit by Shizuo’s feet. Shizuo would have pet him, but he was still finishing his breakfast so he made do with giving the dog a little smile.

“Ah, Tin likes you!” Aira brought her hands together in delight. “He’s usually very shy.”

“I’m sure Tin senses a familiar soul,” Izaya quipped, and Shizuo rewarded him with an angry look, suppressing the urge to kick him under the table. Izaya wouldn’t feel the kick anyway, his legs incapable of feeling anything, and too much of Shizuo’s being was still horrified with the idea of inflicting further damage on the man.

Aira didn’t seem to understand the comment about Shizuo’s similarity to a dog, so she moved on. 

“Whenever Iliana visited, my father’s mood would darken, and… well, he’d done some suspicious things for her.”

“Suspicious?”

“Yeah. Like ordered her specific herbs, frequently gifted her jewelry and rare stones…”

Izaya looked at her incredulously. “Are you trying to say your father was courting her?”

“Oh, no,” Aira gasped. “Sorry, I didn’t realize how that would come across. These gifts, they weren’t done as a nice gesture. More like results of blackmail? That kind sort of thing.”

Izaya hummed. “Would that be all?”

“There’s another thing…” Aira said, biting her lip. She gave Shizuo a worried look before she went to say something that made Shizuo abandon whatever ideas he had of her having any interest in him. “You wouldn’t remember my childhood friend, would you? Padraig is his name. He’s currently held in a dungeon cell at the sheriff’s station, but I’m so very positive that he’s not guilty of anything. Could you take a look at him and read his mind and prove him innocent? The sheriff will probably not bring this up unless you specifically ask for it. You do possess the right to question any suspect, inmate or presumed culprit, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Izaya confirmed. “I must say I’m surprised your childhood sweetheart is on your mind when your father just got murdered.”

He analyzed her reaction to the words, with her expression shifting from worry to embarrassment.

“Well, we used to be very close, after all. And Padraig is still alive, unlike my father, and treated so unfairly…”

“I’m a little disappointed with the information you claimed to have for me, but I will help you nevertheless. Thank you for your delightful company and the food,” Izaya bowed his head slightly. He loved the theatrics of noble families. Shizuo couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “Shizu-chan, I’m done eating. Take me back upstairs now,” Izaya commanded him in Japanese.

Shizuo felt his legs move under him against his will.

 

!

 

“Don’t give such clear orders,” Shizuo grumbled, once they were upstairs. Izaya sat on the edge of the bed, his sword placed by his side. They were getting ready to go visit the sheriff, for Izaya’s job required him to stop by the local law enforcement every time he passed a major town. His services could be required to resolve conflicts that were in queue, with the sheriff awaiting an informant’s arrival to reach a verdict.

The windows were open in their room. Somewhere far away a dog was barking, but aside from that, it was deafeningly quiet in the area. Shizuo stood by the window, enjoying the brisk feeling of the cold morning wind that came breezing through, ruffling his hair up.

“Why not?” Izaya shrugged small shoulders. “I wanted you to take me here immediately. It’s the fastest way.”

“It hurts, you know,” Shizuo complained, remembering the way his veins tightened when Izaya commanded him.

“Only if you feel like going against it. I know the nature of the spell that binds us. After all, I was the one who carefully crafted it.”

“I hate you,” Shizuo said simply, staring outside the window.

Izaya waved his hand in bored acknowledgment. Shizuo’s feelings towards him were no secret.

“Well? What are we waiting for?” Shizuo asked. They should have been on the way to the sheriff by now, but Izaya idled on the bed, making no motion to want to move.

“The girl isn’t telling me everything,” Izaya said, visibly annoyed. His irritation always manifested itself in a slight wrinkle under the corner of his eyes, but the man very rarely lost his smile.

“What do you mean?”

“She’s obviously more interested in this Padraig fellow than her father’s death, and I suspect she actually _knows_ why her dad died and who killed him. Therefore, what she wants from us is a mystery to me.”

Shizuo leaned against the window frame, processing the information. He didn’t have a reason to doubt Izaya’s words — Izaya was a liar and he frequently played with Shizuo, too, but ever since they partnered in this way, Izaya seemed to shift ever so slightly in his attitude towards Shizuo. He stopped viewing him as only a source of entertainment. He often shared with him ideas and thoughts on the cases they worked on, if only for a chance to gloat about his superior understanding of human nature.

It bothered him a little that Izaya suspected Aira of something fishy. Shizuo didn’t know for sure, but he had a feeling that the girl’s intentions were good.

“I think the girl lacks malice,” Shizuo finally spoke. Izaya gave him a curious look, avoiding direct eye contact.

“You were right about her not grieving, you know.”

“I was?” Shizuo blinked. He was so ready to apologize to the girl again, the next time he saw her.

“Mhm. I don’t even need to read her mind to know that,” Izaya looked at him in silence for a bit. “And you, you always had a good intuition about people’s feelings.”

“Whatever,” Shizuo frowned. He didn’t need to hear compliments from the likes of Izaya. “So why didn’t you confront her? About all these suspicions of yours.”

“Well, the girl’s awfully cocky, isn’t she? She thinks she can play an informant,” Izaya smiled. “It’s best to let her feel superior. We’re going to play along for now.”

“What’s the plan?”

“The sheriff, then that whole thing with the boy she seems to fancy. Then probably the witch. We’ll dance the way she wants us to and see where that leads us.”

Shizuo rubbed his nose. “You look like you’re having fun.”

“It’s kind of fun,” Izaya said happily. “I need to investigate this stuff anyway. Lorest owed me a _great_ deal; I decided I will hold whomever took his life responsible for the debts. You know how much I hate it when someone kills my humans before I'm done observing them.”

“Why wouldn’t you ask Aira to reimburse you? Whatever money he owed, the debt should be inherited by her, right?” Shizuo asked. He didn’t want Aira dealing with Izaya, but it did strike him as odd that Izaya didn’t even mention the amount of money Lorest owed him to the direct heiress of the man.

“Don’t be silly, Shizu-chan,” Izaya laughed. “I loaned him the money because I was interested in what he would do with it. Money is irrelevant to me. I’m not too interested in playing with his daughter, so there is no reason for me to seek it from her. Perhaps if she were more interesting…” Izaya’s voice trailed off, his expression thoughtful.

Shizuo didn’t know whether to feel relieved at the words. On one hand, Aira was free of Izaya’s creepy attention that he tended to give humans, on the other hand, that probably meant he wasn’t going to put much effort into helping her with her father’s murder. Shizuo himself felt conflicted with all the information he was presented with. For some reason he really wanted to help the girl, even if Izaya suspected her of being coy. She probably had a reason to hide certain facts if she did omit some information, or so Shizuo wanted to believe.

“Women can’t help but like you, hmm?” Izaya suddenly said, waking him up from his thoughts. “She took such a liking to you, when she can barely stand my presence.”

“She got that boy on her mind,” Shizuo shrugged, not wanting to discuss this with Izaya. “I don’t pay attention to those things, anyway.”

It wasn’t like he could pursue any semblance of a relationship in his current state of "employment.” Izaya was the center of his life, whether he wanted it or not, and he had to take care of him every waking moment. Perhaps when their contract was over, Shizuo could begin to think about settling down.

Eight years and ten months...

“It’s a shame that you don’t,” Izaya said. “Most of them love you because of your raw strength, of course.”

Shizuo looked down at his hands. They didn’t even look that strong. His strength was unnatural, it didn’t reflect in his physique.

“Wait, so she can barely stand you?” Shizuo grinned. “Girl is a good judge of character.”

Izaya scoffed, curling his lips in a small pout. Sometimes he looked incredibly childlike. Shizuo chuckled at the hurt expression.

“Admit it,” Izaya said, his tone suddenly playful. 

“ _What?_ ” Shizuo sighed. He could feel the effect of the spell kicking in — Izaya wanted him to admit something, but he didn’t know what. 

“You like being out here. You like meeting new people, seeing new lands, being involved in mini-adventures.”

Shizuo didn’t want to admit that. But the spell bound his veins tightly, chilling his blood, threatening to snap him. If only he didn’t actually enjoy traveling so much, he could easily admit it to be false… but seeing new lands and meeting people who had never heard of him as a monster was the kind of life that Shizuo grew to love over his forgotten days in Japan where he was branded a monster and frequently bullied with the help of magic. 

“I admit it. It is true,” he growled out. “Stop. You promised you wouldn’t abuse this shit.”

“There’s no pleasing you, is there? I was simply talking. The chains of the spell might be a tad too strong.”

Izaya looked into his eyes, thoughtful. For once, Shizuo didn’t look away. It wasn’t like he had any shreds of privacy left, walking side-by-side with a person who read minds and who could oblige him to speak the truth by simply teasing. He didn’t know what Izaya read in his eyes, but the informant looked a little pensive.

“Don’t be so moody, my little monster,” he gave a hearty sigh after a pause. “We could loosen the spell a bit, but then I don’t know if you’ll keep following me as much.”

“Is that actually possible?” Shizuo asked. He wished he could read the informant’s mind to know what Izaya was thinking.

“Mhm.”

Shizuo fell silent. Izaya appeared to be thinking over something, too. After a while, he clapped his hands once, the old smile back on his lips.

“Not too interested to try it, though. Maybe when Shizu-chan deserves that much?”

“I’ve been pretty fucking good,” he muttered.

“Because you _have_ to be good. That's the point of the spell. But say, doesn’t it feel good, to be chosen?”

“What do you mean?”

“When I was looking for a bodyguard, I had a plethora of choices available to me. Yet I chose you.”

Shizuo thought about that. “Not really,” he admitted. “It doesn’t feel like anything. You needed strength, I was the best choice. That’d be like feeling good over this cursed strength of mine. And look what my strength did to you…”

He turned around to stare outside the window again, pained by the memories of the day he broke Izaya’s legs.

“Silly monster,” Izaya said quietly. “Come on, let’s go pay Eirik a visit.”

 

!

 

Izaya had met Eirik on two occasions before. He had passed through Killarney more than that, but Eirik was a young man who recently replaced the former sheriff when the man died of old age. Though he had only worked with Izaya twice, they were both young people in governmental positions which was a rarity, so Eirik was quite fond of Izaya. Part of it had to do with the fact that Izaya was endlessly bored with the man, failing to find any interesting buttons to push, and so Eirik’s genuine liking of him stayed unchanged.

“Mr. Orihara!” Eirik exclaimed in a happy voice when Shizuo entered the house that served as the sheriff’s office. Izaya’s nose was buried in Shizuo’s shoulder, since he was a little tired from their trip here. Lorest's mansion was quite a few kilometers away from Killarney’s main square. 

“Eirik Sherrows,” Izaya greeted him, bored. Shizuo crouched to let Izaya off and put him on a chair. “Nice to see you again.”

“Still no progress with your legs, huh?” Eirik asked, sympathetic. He was a man of medium height, red-haired and his fair skin was full of freckles. His eyes were placed a little too close together, and sometimes he appeared cross-eyed because of that. 

“None,” Izaya said with a sigh. “I sincerely doubt I’ll ever walk again.”

“Truly unfortunate!” Eirik lamented. He got up to take a few cups out of the cupboard that hung by the wall to the side of his little desk. “I imagine if you still had your legs, we’d see you a lot more often. Not that your schedule is any less frequent than other informants’. You haven’t been late in your visits, of course,” he hurried to add, making sure that Izaya wouldn’t misunderstand him.

“Well, I get a lot of help from my loyal friends,” Izaya bared his teeth in a smile, noting the small twitch in Shizuo’s body as he said those words.

Eirik’s eyes dismissively skimmed Shizuo’s frame, then fixed on Izaya again. He obviously regarded Shizuo as help that wasn’t worth his attention. “Well, I’m afraid I don’t have much work for you, Mr. Orihara. There’s one lady that claims that a man intentionally sold her rotten vegetables and a man who claims he never cheated on his wife, but that’s about it. It’s been a peaceful last few months.”

“Peaceful, hmm?” Izaya's attention perked up. “I suppose one of the Five Lords being murdered in cold blood marks a time peaceful then.”

Eirik waved his hands, anxious. “No, no, no, of course not! Gosh, Lord Lorest’s death… right. How could I forget. There is no work to be done there, unfortunately. Iliana, our main witch, was at the scene, she couldn’t find any traces of the culprit… a perfect crime is what they call it, I guess. Really, _really_ unfortunate.”

“How about a young boy named Padraig?” Izaya asked, observing every little flicker of change in Eirik’s expression. The way he spoke about Lorest’s murder intrigued him; for a split second his brown eyes shot up to the ceiling when Eirik pretended to have forgotten about the lord’s murder, which meant that he was lying about it. Why and did he really know more than that, Izaya couldn’t tell for sure yet, because no living soul looked him in the eyes willingly, aside from Shizuo on occasion.

It was so rare for him to establish eye contact with a willing party that he actually secretly treasured the rare moments that Shizuo didn’t resist it. The monster never welcomed it, nor was he happy about it, but sometimes he did allow it, like earlier that day. Once again, Izaya read the regret Shizuo felt for having crippled him and he also read his desperate desire to be freed of Izaya’s presence in his life. The strength of the latter emotion didn’t particularly surprise Izaya, but he did feel a little irritated. He supposed it made sense, because he wasn’t sure he’d want it any other way. He couldn’t imagine himself traveling with someone who was actually happy to be in his presence. What an odd human that would be.

Eirik visibly tensed at the mention of the boy’s name. The young sheriff was never good at masking his emotions, which was a terrible human trait for someone in his position. Izaya never had much faith in him, but at least it made his own job easier.

“Padraig, huh? Ah, right, we did have a boy by that name in the cells… why must you ask about him, I wonder? The case is clear-cut, a notable family informed us that he had tried to steal from their barrels when he worked for them as a stable boy. The boy didn’t resist arrest and he fessed up, completely. Not a job for an informant, you see!” Eirik assured him.

“Ah, but I’d like to read his thoughts anyway,” Izaya chirped, taking a sip from his tea.

Eirik shifted in his seat, frowning. “How unusual of an informant to show initiative. You won’t tell me the reason why you’re so interested in him?”

“I don’t have to have a reason at all, dear sheriff Sherrows,” Izaya said with a chilling smile. “By any chance, are you trying to prevent an informant from making an inquiry?”

That was a grave offense in almost any country’s law. The Guild of Informants had jurisdiction over the local law enforcement, because they were entrusted with the power of absolute truth. There was once a time when the Guild was neutral in its political affiliation, but things had changed. Izaya absolutely adored to observe corruption, in human souls or their organizations, so he was pleased with the way the Guild’s history shifted. Nowadays, they were quite closely affiliated with the leading powers, be it the King of Ireland, or the Emperor of Japan. It made too much sense that a bastion of true neutrality wouldn’t last too long in any human society.

Still, some semblance of neutrality was preserved in the sense that only the Guild of Inspectors could stop an informant from pursuing a particular truth. And that meant Eirik couldn’t actually prevent Izaya from talking to the boy.

“No, of course, not,” Eirik was quick in his answer. He got up from the desk, his hands crumpling the handkerchief he used to wipe his mouth. “Ah, what an odd conversation this has been,” he mumbled under his nose as he proceeded towards a door that most likely led to the cells. 

Izaya looked at Shizuo who had kept quiet (he always did when Izaya was doing his job), and he was gently lifted off the chair by strong arms that he was so used to.

They descended down the stairs, following Eirik’s hunched back. The man looked truly deflated after the informant insisted on seeing the boy, and Izaya almost licked his lips in anticipation, excited about what kind of thoughts he was going to discover in the captured boy’s thoughts. There had to be something delicious in there, because Eirik’s face turned almost grey in its color.

Once Eirik hesitantly pointed at a particular cell, Shizuo approached the bars and turned sideways, allowing Izaya to take a good look at the tired boy that was held inside. He didn’t want to sit on the prison’s dirtied stone floor, so he remained on Shizuo’s back.

The boy’s eyes were shining bright with despair, but he sat in the far corner of the cell, not moving an inch at the sight of his two visitors.

“Padraig, is it?” Izaya called softly. “Look me in the eye.”

The boy stumbled over to the rusted iron bars, looking starved to the bones and with skin so pallid that Izaya distantly wondered if the boy was dying. When he looked into the black eyes, however, he realized that the boy was simply a vampire.


	3. Chapter 3

The vampire’s mind was laid bare in front of him. The boy didn’t even require convincing, Izaya’s red eyes probably proof enough that he was an official, but at the heart of things he had probably ceased caring about preserving any dignity. He looked like he was falling apart, quite literally, so his general resignation wasn’t surprising.

Izaya dug into the exposed mind, clawing through the layers of jumbled memories to search for any interesting bits of information. Reading the layers of a person’s mind was actually tedious work. People had mistakenly thought that it was effortless and instant, but it took Izaya around half an hour of concentration to access what he was really looking for, and he was always mentally drained afterwards. At first glance, he could never see anything but perhaps the strongest beliefs of a person’s mind and the current emotions they were going through.

Shizuo was probably the strongest human ever to walk the Earth, but Izaya wasn’t, far from it, so fifteen minutes later his arms were too tired to remain locked around Shizuo’s neck. As asked, Shizuo lowered him carefully on the ground, and Izaya continued reading from a sitting position.

The boy was innocent. He had never seen the sacks that he was accused of stealing and never even worked as a stable boy. He was also only recently made vampire; Izaya saw glimpses of a female frame that turned him, but he couldn’t make out anything for certain. The boy’s memories were too blurred. His mind had been fractured with magic — someone had attempted to erase his memories, definite prints of a sorceress’ work. That was probably why the boy didn’t resist arrest and obediently accepted his fate. 

Izaya gave up on trying to find more information about the vampire that turned Padraig and focused on the boy’s more recent memories. Glimpses of broken pieces of conversation flipped in Izaya’s mind, and he heard two men discussing a fight. A fight that was going to happen in the near future. The two men then turned towards Izaya and he distinctly made out their faces. He didn’t recognize the men. They promised Padraig they would use him for the fight come the right time, and it didn’t sound like Padraig had a choice.

Exhausted, Izaya tore his eyes away from the boy. Sensing that the act was over, Padraig turned around and slumped his back against the bars.

“Boy’s innocent,” Izaya announced his verdict in a hollow voice, as Shizuo lifted him off the ground when he gestured him to.

Eirik nodded, dismal. “What exactly did you learn?” he asked timidly, as if he was scared to hear the answer.

“That he was framed for the crimes he’s accused of,” Izaya said simply, analyzing Eirik’s reaction. “Could you give me the address of the people who claimed he was a thief?”

“Of course, of course… and that is all you learned?”

“Yes.”

In the dark of the dungeon, there really wasn’t enough light to observe Eirik’s fleeting expressions of fear followed by relief. It was clear as day that there was a bigger secret hidden somewhere within the boy’s mind, but his memories and thoughts were so violated, Izaya couldn’t dig the treasure out. He would have liked to continue reading the thoughts in hopes of clearing something up, but he was developing quite a headache wandering through the broken labyrinths of an abused mind. Every time he hit an abrupt, unnatural dead-end, it was like loud bells rang in his mind. He decided against the futile effort, since he had other means of acquiring information.

“I guess your job here is done then, Mr. Informant,” Eirik said, awfully formal and turning towards the exit.

“It will be when you let the boy go,” Izaya reminded him.

With a heavy sigh, Eirik walked over to unlock the cell, and the boy slowly crawled out, his body so weak that he couldn’t run out of the place like Izaya knew he so desperately wanted to. It didn’t look like Padraig was going to make it far in his current state.

Arms tight around Shizuo’s shoulders, Izaya stared at the nape of the neck in front of him, wondering if he should force Shizuo to donate blood to the boy.

“Shizu-chan,” Izaya murmured into his ear quietly. “Wanna feed the dying kid?”

“No,” Shizuo growled out. “I’ve never been fed on, and I’m not dying to find out how that feels.”

“How heartless,” Izaya sighed. “Then crouch so I can hand him my wrist.”

Shizuo turned his neck to throw Izaya a side glance. “Really?”

“Yes, really.”

Truth be told, he never intended to allow Shizuo to feed the kid. He simply wanted to hear his response.

Shizuo’s knees fell on the ground, the thump against the stone floor so loud that it was obvious Shizuo didn’t want to kneel just yet, still contemplating Izaya’s offer. But the spell’s chains must have tightened enough that he couldn’t resist obeying the clear order any longer than those few seconds.

Izaya extended his arm, a little amused with himself for being so generous. Padraig looked at the offered skin with suspicion, but he was a beggar with no choice, so he couldn’t hesitate for too long. He needed food, even if he didn’t know Izaya’s intentions for helping. Teeth tore through the thin skin, and even though it was painful, the level of pain couldn’t compare to the amount Izaya endured on the day his entire body was broken by Shizuo. It only took a few minutes for Padraig to revitalize his body, and his face regained some semblance of natural color for vampires.

“T-Thank you,” Padraig mumbled, blood dribbling from the corners of his lips, and made an effort to get up. He succeeded on the third try, swaying a little side to side.

They left the dungeon cells in silence, neither Eirik nor Padraig making a single noise. Before Shizuo could cross the threshold to leave the building, Izaya tugged on the blond hair, forcing him to stop. He turned to look at Eirik one last time.

“I have a feeling I’ll see you again soon, Eirik,” Izaya said and licked his dry lips. “You know, I always thought that you were as proper and boring as humans can be, but you exceeded my expectations.”

Eirik visibly swallowed, the exact meaning of Izaya’s words lost on him, but he correctly inferred that nothing good was going to befall on him in the near future.

 

!

 

Having bandaged Izaya’s pierced wrist, Shizuo found himself wishing that he had agreed to give up his own blood. He squashed that thought before it could get out of hand and handed Izaya two oranges he had just peeled for him.

They took a break to sit down at the main square, because Izaya was more exhausted than usual following a mind-reading session. Padraig took off somewhere, much to Izaya’s displeasure — he attempted to question the boy on the things he managed to uncover, but the boy admitted to remembering very little from his life. Halfway through Izaya’s tired, but insistent questioning, the boy apologized and took off into the crowd, fast as vampires were. Shizuo expected Izaya to call for a chase, but the informant tiredly waved his hand and asked him to get some food instead.

Shizuo didn’t really want to initiate a conversation, but curiosity was getting the better of him. Usually Izaya wasted no time to unload his theories on him, but after the boy left he grew to be uncharacteristically quiet, nomming down slices of orange, one after another.

“So what’s the plan now?” Shizuo grumbled, irritated with Izaya for choosing the wrong time to be silent.

Izaya gave him a curious look, as if sensing the true reason for Shizuo’s grumpiness. “You know you can just ask me questions if you’re wondering about something.”

“I’m fine.”

“’Course you are,” Izaya sweetly smiled, but his eyes were so tired, the brilliancy of his smile was shadowed by that exhaustion.

The market near the square was loud, reverberating with laughter and haggling and jabber. Shizuo didn’t feel good in a crowd, his senses always heightened and looking out for potential trouble, but Izaya loved being surrounded by people above almost everything. He seemed to recharge faster when he was around people, and that was probably why they were both sitting there, idling.

Eventually, Shizuo couldn’t keep quiet anymore. The uncertainty was irritating, and he did have to follow Izaya everywhere so he felt he should be in the know. He was also bored, sitting there doing nothing but watching Izaya eat oranges, and that was as good an excuse as ever.

“Are you this tired because it was a vampire?” he heard himself ask, with more aggression than he had intended.

“No,” Izaya answered immediately, lighting up at the prospect of a conversation. “There’s actually no difference between people and vampires when it comes to consciousness.”

“Really? Then why do you dismiss vampires as monsters? Shouldn’t you love them, too?” Shizuo said with a slight scoff, because Izaya’s self-proclaimed love for people never sat well with him.

“Just because vampires preserve the general pattern of thinking doesn’t mean that there aren’t some important changes,” Izaya said, swallowing another piece of the orange. “For example, vampires are granted immortality, and that affects the way a vampire goes about life. It is no longer human at that point, because mortality is a central part of being human. You can’t just throw it out and remain the same.”

“Huh, I see.”

That made sense. Shizuo had always deeply suspected that Izaya dismissed monsters, and Shizuo in particular, because of differences like that. Possession of qualities that normal people just didn’t have. Somewhere on the edge of his mind he thought that maybe Izaya was envious of vampires for being immortal, but he shrugged that thought away like he would a fly. If that analogy held up, it would mean Izaya was supposedly envious of Shizuo’s inhuman strength, and that couldn’t be true. Izaya used to be exceptional at fighting Shizuo on equal footing before he lost the ability to walk, having graduated with excellency from the dojo they both attended as kids.

“So why are you so tired?” Shizuo huffed a question, making an effort to look disinterested.

“Boy’s mind was fractured,” Izaya said quietly. “With magic,” he then clarified when Shizuo’s eyes narrowed at the lack of understanding. “Don’t make such angry faces,” he teased him. “I know how much you hate feeling like you’re missing something. My very accurate guess would be a witch was asked to erase his memories, but her work was a little imperfect. Still, it did enough to prevent me from learning anything certain.”

“So is the boy important?” Shizuo asked, his thoughts flying back to Aira and how she seemed so worried about him. He wondered if she knew that Padraig was a vampire. She probably did.

“Oh yeah,” Izaya echoed an answer. “Eirik almost vomited from his anxiety over what I would learn. Unfortunately, all I caught that was of any substance was a pair of unfamiliar faces that I’ll be on the lookout for, and the fact that they planned for Padraig to fight for some purpose.”

“Like enlist in an army or something?”

“It sounded like a smaller fight, maybe a duel? I’m not entirely sure.”

Shizuo thought back on Aira, wondering how she would take the news. They lost track of the boy, but being a vampire who had regained his vitality, he couldn’t be in much trouble. They told him about Aira and where to find her, too. He looked down at Izaya’s wrapped-up wrist, his mind replaying the scene when the boy bit through Izaya’s skin. At the time, the spell boiled his blood a little to the sight of Izaya being hurt, but it wasn’t too bad, since Shizuo knew he did it willingly.

Still, he wished he was the one who donated blood.

“Why’d you feed the boy?”

“Hmm? Kid was dying, Shizu-chan. Aren’t you monsters sympathetic to each other? I’d assume you of all people would detect when a creature is in its dying moments.”

“Vampires can’t die.”

Theoretically, one could chop up a vampire into a million pieces and that would technically mean it was beyond any saving, but vampires couldn’t die of natural cause, or starvation, or any injuries that preserved the wholeness of their bodies.

“Figure of speech,” Izaya sighed. “They’re _effectively_ dead when they’re drained of energy. What would Aira think of us if we left her dear friend lying on the dungeon floors like that?” Izaya said mockingly, as if he cared what the girl thought of them at all.

“You could’ve ordered me to feed him,” Shizuo said stubbornly. It made no sense for Izaya to sacrifice his own blood; he was so self-serving, it actually shocked Shizuo when Izaya went so far for the boy. “I know I said no, but—”

“It’s fine,” Izaya waved his hand, then looked at him playfully. “Open your mouth, Shizu-chan.”

Shizuo half-opened his mouth, dying on the inside, and Izaya slipped the last slice of orange between Shizuo’s lips, quick fingers brushing his jawline as they withdrew. “Eat it,” Izaya quickly added before Shizuo could spit the food out.

“Fucking weirdo,” Shizuo muttered as he swallowed the piece.

The orange tasted sharp and sour, but there was enough sweetness in the juices that he didn’t completely hate it.

 

!

 

The Keating family didn’t live very far from the main square. They paid them a quick visit before they headed back to Lorest’s estate. Izaya apologized for showing up unannounced, an obvious lie, and proceeded to threaten the family with legal repercussions for having framed a person for a crime they didn’t commit. He implied closing his eyes on the entire thing if they let him read their minds, and the scared couple quickly agreed to it, terrified of the informant.

His second mind-reading session of the day, Izaya felt completely drained after. He had learned that it was the sheriff who asked the couple to frame the boy and he paid them a decent amount of coin for it. They didn’t know the reason why, but the sheriff convinced them it was a lowly vampire that nobody was going to miss, so they didn’t need much convincing. Humans were quite racist towards vampires, to a point of abuse and general disregard.

Back at the mansion, Izaya was relieved to finally lie back on one of the sofas, his arms and head hurting. Using a wheelchair was a pain in the ass for sporadic visits like the ones they did today, so Izaya mostly relied on Shizuo for getting around. The monster never once complained about the weight or workload, but Izaya’s arms got sore quite often. Not having the ability to walk was annoying in so many ways.

Aira expected them to join her for dinner. She patiently waited for them to assume their seats before she set her unusually hawkish eyes on Izaya.

“Well? What did the sheriff tell you?”

“Padraig is free, but we don’t know where he is,” Izaya diligently reported, pouring sauce onto his plate. He was too tired to attempt to make the conversation interesting, so he made do with stating the facts. “His mind has been messed with; he barely remembers you or the things that happened to him.”

“So he can’t testify,” Aira said nervously.

“I wouldn’t know, since you refuse to tell me what he would testify for.”

“I meant against the sheriff. Eirik Sherrows is dirty. You can tell that much by now, can’t you?” she asked, impatient. She looked at him as though she was losing confidence in Izaya’s usefulness.

He gave her a scrutinizing look. “You’ve really matured over the last year, Aira. I wonder what kind of things took place in this mansion that a young shy girl like you would grow up to be so sophisticated in one year and carry herself with such certainty.”

“Can you really say that you knew me?” Aira gave an irritated shrug of shoulders. “I have a feeling that someone like you doesn’t really pay attention to things unless they’re _interesting_ , and your criteria of what is interesting seems rather far from normal.”

“Fair enough,” Izaya nodded. “By the way, you do know Padraig is a vampire, right?”

“Of course. He never told me the details behind his transformation, but he’s the same person to me,” Aira said stubbornly. “My father wasn’t fond of vampires, but I do not share his animosity, especially when it comes to childhood friends. Padraig didn’t choose to become a vampire.”

The dinner ended in loaded silence. Before they retreated into their room for the night, Izaya asked Shizuo to take him to the stables. Swallow was probably irritated to be left out of the loop, and he had a special request for her that he didn’t know if she would take on.

The black horse stood out from the other horses in the stables, her frame majestic and amber eyes glowing dimly in the dark. Shizuo carefully threw him over to sit on top of her, and Izaya leaned forward against her neck, telling her everything that had taken place ever since they arrived in Killarney.

“I’d like you to go eavesdrop on our new friend,” Izaya said at the end, playing with soft strands of her mane. “It’s interesting, isn’t it? I think this town had accumulated a lot of dirt since we last visited it. I wonder if it has to do with the amount of money Lorest loaned from me.”

Swallow neighed quietly, and Shizuo correctly interpreted the sound, scooping Izaya off of her back. Izaya wrapped his arms around the firm shoulders, thinking how Shizuo was always so warm. A little cold himself, he gripped tighter onto his monster and watched Swallow leave the stall.

In a rain of golden particles the horse shapeshifted into a real swallow, a small bird with pitch black feathers, and tiny beads of her eyes remained amber. The bird flapped its wings, flying up and down in big swirling circles as if it had terribly missed the feeling of flying. After a few crazy whirls, Swallow briefly landed on Izaya’s shoulder, gave his ear a painful peck with its beak and took off into the sky through the opened doors of the stables.

Shizuo quickly walked out of the stables and craned his neck, following the path of the bird in the sky. Izaya could only see a tiny black dot in the dark blue of the night sky.

“She decided to help,” Shizuo said in some sort of summary of the evening.

“Help is a big word for a puca,” Izaya quietly laughed into Shizuo’s ear. “We’ll see what she comes up with this time.”

Swallow’s favors were never reliable, after all, but that was why Izaya adored her so much. Her unpredictability was too exciting.

After Shizuo took him to their room, he surprised Izaya with a sudden request.

“Could I leave you alone for maybe an hour?” he asked, hesitant. This was the first time during his indentured service that he had requested an official break of sorts.

“Depends,” Izaya said, narrowing his eyes. “What would it be for?”

“Aira asked me to meet her downstairs at midnight. She said it was important.”

“Go ahead,” Izaya stiffly shrugged.

Shizuo fidgeted on his feet, as if delaying the time of his departure, but the clock was about to strike midnight so he couldn’t afford to hesitate for too long.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he said before he left as if Izaya cared. He was wrapped up in his blanket, ready to go to sleep.

He didn’t care about Shizuo at all, or so he told himself.

 

!

 

Leaving Izaya alone like that left a bad taste on his tongue.

Shizuo had gotten so used to always knowing where Izaya was and what he was doing that a separation like that was out of the established order. He supposed that sort of responsibility was both part of the spell that bent his will to worry about the informant, and also part of habit now. One couldn’t take such thorough care of another for a whole year and not fall into a certain pattern.

Normally, Shizuo would have declined anyone’s invitation to meet with him, but Aira delivered her request with such deeply seated worry in the green eyes that he didn’t really find the heart to refuse.

“I’m glad you agreed to see me!” Aira exclaimed, though her voice was collected and calm.

She was sitting by the fireplace, little embers dying in-between the black stones. It was getting chilly in the mansion, and Shizuo thought about Izaya being upstairs, whether he was cold and couldn’t get up to get himself an additional blanket. Stupid spell filling his thoughts with such ridiculous care.

“What is it that you wanted to talk to me about?” Shizuo asked, taking a seat on the couch, not too close but not too far from her.

If Shizuo had a good level of self-esteem, he would probably have little doubt that Aira’s insistence on seeing him alone was due to some form of romantic interest. But he always erred on the side of caution and he always assumed that people couldn’t possibly like a monster like him, so he was expecting a serious conversation.

He wasn’t quite wrong.

“You and the informant that you follow… you are going to help me, right?” Aira asked, biting her lip. “I would ask Mr. Orihara about this, but he always talks in riddles, or should I say, lies.”

“I don’t know if we’ll _help_ ,” Shizuo said honestly. “I would like to, but I am bound to follow him no matter where he pleases to go.”

“But it seems as though Mr. Orihara is very interested in taking sheriff Sherrows down. Isn’t he?”

Shizuo took a moment to chew on those thoughts, wondering how he could explain _Izaya_ to anyone who hadn’t dealt with the informant on a personal level. Izaya took a special interest in observing people who were playing with fire, so of course he would be intrigued by Eirik’s involvement in something dirty. That didn’t mean he entertained any ideas of helping.

“Izaya just adores corruption in people’s hearts,” Shizuo tried to sum it up as best as he could. “It doesn’t mean he’s looking to punish them. Not necessarily.”

“He’s going to enable him?!” Aira asked, indignant. There was a righteous fire in her eyes that Shizuo couldn’t deny was quite attractive.

“No, Izaya doesn’t play by any set rules,” Shizuo said. “What he does depends on his whims and on circumstances. He might help you, or he might help him. Most likely, he will help you both and then pit you against each other.”

“What an unpleasant type,” the girl said thoughtfully and with a dose of disgust in her voice, and Shizuo couldn’t disagree. “I held out so much hope when I heard that an informant arrived in town… it seemed like it was too good to be true, considering the growing corruption of the local forces.”

“I’ll try to convince him to do the right thing,” Shizuo said, touched by the girl’s desire to set things right. “But I can’t really go against him, and he never listens to me either.”

Aira nodded, appreciative of his kindness. Her eyes sparked playfully, as she scooted closer to Shizuo. “I like you a lot more than him! You have a good heart, Shizuo.”

She said his name with a slight accent, but it only made it sound more endearing, and her proximity spread warmth through Shizuo’s chest. “I’m not really a good person,” he said honestly, ignoring the way she made him feel. “I’ve done really bad things, too.”

She leaned in closer, green eyes wide and innocent, and Shizuo subconsciously slid farther away. When he realized what he did, she took the rejection with disappointment and embarrassment.

“Shame you don’t seem to like me,” she mumbled as she looked down on her feet, cheeks flushed with a deep shade of red.

“S-Sorry,” Shizuo stuttered and got up. He wasn’t sure what just happened, but it seemed like the gist of their conversation was sufficiently covered. “I should go now. I promise you, Aira, I will do my best to help you.”

He ran up the stairs without looking back, his mind darting back to Izaya.


	4. Chapter 4

The next day Izaya's arms were a little too sore, so they used a wheelchair that Aira was kind enough to lend them.

Shizuo pushed the wheelchair around the town, as they crossed one of the main squares. Killarney was a lively town, bigger than most settlements they passed. A couple of vampires politely stopped them on their way to the town witch, asking Izaya if they could buy Shizuo’s blood. He didn’t know why, but Izaya’s curt refusal always made him feel a little better. Izaya really _was_ weirdly considerate sometimes, at times when Shizuo least saw it coming. For example, when the spell was put in place between the two of them, he fully expected Izaya to take advantage of it and order him to do all kinds of terrible, disgusting things, but the informant had never once forced him to do anything that Shizuo was deeply opposed to.

Only once did Shizuo vaguely ask him why Izaya hadn’t taken advantage of it yet, and Izaya seemed to have taken great offense at the question. With the patience reserved for five-year-olds, he proceeded to explain that just because he enjoyed torturing Shizuo didn’t mean that he would resort to such boring methods like abusing the power of complete control over him. “I like to think of myself as more creative than that,” Izaya said with a spiteful smile. He really did seem hurt that Shizuo believed him to be low enough to abuse the chains put on him.

Izaya really was a weird person, Shizuo thought to himself, looking down at the man’s straightened back. He sat in the wheelchair with grace, as if preserving whatever dignity he could muster being chained to a wheelchair.

Near the end of the square, Shizuo woke up from his thoughts and snapped to attention, because he sensed a danger incoming. It wasn’t towards Izaya. A woman was crossing the street at the wrong time and a large carriage was swiftly headed towards her, moving so fast that thick gusts of dirt were thrown high in the air. With a quiet curse, Shizuo sprinted forward and stopped the entire carriage by grabbing the horse and lifting it up in the air, the impact of the collision shoving his feet deep into the dirt of the road. The horse neighed in panic, kicking and resisting Shizuo’s hold, almost hitting nearby citizens with its hooves, but it only took it a few seconds to calm down and relax. Somehow, animals always seemed to sense Shizuo’s harmless nature.

A terrified man ran out of the halted carriage and gaped at him, and Shizuo awkwardly looked back with apology in his eyes. He lowered the horse back down and then turned to look at the woman he had saved. She was nowhere to be found. _At least she’s safe_ , Shizuo thought, rubbing his head. It wasn’t that he expected gratitude or anything, but she did almost die, and Shizuo did save her…

“Freak!” the man spat, running over to the horse. A crowd gathered around them, and Shizuo wondered if they had misunderstood him. They probably didn’t realize he was attempting to save a person, not demonstrate his unnatural strength.

Feeling a little nauseous from all the staring eyes, Shizuo hurried back to where he left Izaya. People stepped to the side as he ran through the crowd, and no matter where he looked, he only saw fear, disgust and contempt. Those all too familiar expressions reminded him of his adolescence, bringing back all the memories he wanted to forget.

Izaya welcomed him back with a wide grin, having witnessed everything. Shizuo wasn’t surprised — back in Japan Izaya had frequently sent people after him, trying to bring out the monstrosity in him. He always took joy in observing Shizuo’s superhuman strength.

“Don’t worry, Shizu-chan,” Izaya lilted when Shizuo grabbed the wheelchair from behind. “I don’t mind you being a monster. It’s your best self, really.”

“Fuck off,” Shizuo said angrily, but the words did manage to give him a vague sense of comfort. At least one person accepted that aspect of him, no matter how bad that person was.

They proceeded forward in silence, as Shizuo breathed in the morning air, calming his nerves. He kind of wished that Izaya could just order him to “feel better” or “be less angry”, but those kinds of orders had no effect on him.

“Maybe we should use the wheelchair more often,” Shizuo quietly said, as they neared the house that belonged to the town witch.

“Why?”

“I dunno. Don’t you feel a little weird being carried around all the time?”

“I’m used to it,” Izaya shrugged and threw his arms up with a happy smile. Shizuo huffed at the gesture, but knelt down to offer his back, feeling Izaya’s cold arms wrap around his neck. He was kinda used to it, too. He tried to support Izaya’s legs as much as possible, so the informant wouldn’t have to overexert his arms.

“Hey, Shizu-chan,” Izaya whispered into his ear, freezing Shizuo on the steps. “Before we go in, I should warn you.”

“Warn me?” Shizuo frowned.

“You’ve never talked with a witch before, have you?”

Shizuo had seen many witches, but he had only interacted with one before -- the one that turned his hair blond. Plenty of witches in Japan had disabled him when he was on a rampage of sorts or even without any reason sometimes, but they had always done so from afar and on the request of locals who ganged up against a monster like him.

“Why do you ask?”

“Just keep in mind that witches are masterful liars. Lies to them are like spells — words that may not carry magical power, but sometimes they are just as good of a weapon, and god, do they employ lies frequently.”

“You’re warning me about liars?” Shizuo snorted. “That’s a little rich, coming from you.”

“No, the warning makes sense _because_ it’s coming from me. I know all about lies, don’t I?” Izaya insisted, his laughter sending warm wafts of air over Shizuo’s ear. Shizuo involuntarily shivered, goosebumps running down his neck. “ _Trust_ me on this, Shizu-chan. There’s not a single witch in the world that’s not dangerously cunning. It’s kind of like a prerequisite of sorts.”

Shizuo shrugged and ran up the stairs, the door opening before them before he could go for a knock.

 

!

 

Iliana was an exceptionally beautiful woman. Almost every witch was — altering appearance was child’s play for any witch, and who would choose to look average when they had the power to look however they wanted?

The thought made Izaya think back on the one witch that chose to look like an old lady, but that was a story for another time. He focused on observing Iliana for now. She sat at her desk, and there was another visitor in front of her, a young man who seemed quite smitten with her, and Izaya pitied the man. Falling in love with a witch was probably the worst thing a man could do to himself. Witches were typically ruthless in relationships, sucking you dry of all emotions and general vitality, and easily abandoning you once you were nothing but an empty shell. That abuse was both psychological and physical — Izaya had heard that most witches tended to be nymphomaniacs, because sexual intercourse was the best way to recharge magical energy.

In short, witches were addicts — they were hooked on the power that was granted to them and they always sought ways to replenish it to the maximum. Izaya vaguely suspected that a parallel could be drawn between him and witches, but he preferred to think of himself as someone free, someone who wasn’t really chasing anything. He went around the world only observing and he never kept anything by his side, aside from a certain monster. Of course, Shizuo was an exception, but Izaya was allowed one exception, wasn’t he?

He smiled at Iliana, and though she returned the smile, he could see the small disgusted wrinkle in her nose when her gaze fell on him. Witches and informants were traditionally hostile to each other. Both were government-regulated professions, entrusted with very different domains. Witches were trained during childhood in the same way informants were, but only women could qualify to become a witch — it had something to do with the birth-giving ability that a female human body possessed. In essence, they continually traded their fertility for the ability to manipulate the world’s energy.

“An informant gracing my little hut with his presence,” Iliana propped her face with a hand, intrigued. “I would ask you about the nature of your visit, but a very anxious sheriff dropped by my place just this morning.”

“Ah, did he warn you not to talk to me?” Izaya picked up the conversation. It was good that they cut straight to the chase. Though he didn’t share informants’ traditional hostility towards witches (who were almost alike professional liars), he wasn’t exactly fond of them, either.

“Maybe,” Iliana said coyly. She gave a graceful nod towards the starry-eyed man, and he hurried out of the room, completely oblivious to what was going on.

“It’s not often that I have to doubt a sheriff’s work,” Izaya sighed theatrically. “But after reading a certain vampire’s mind, I can’t help but give it a little effort. I’m here to discuss matters that I’m sure you’re already familiar with. To a point that you could probably ask yourself the right questions and answer them right away. You won’t, of course,” Izaya added with a playful smirk.

“You should tread carefully around here, informant,” Iliana said, not without acid in her voice. “There are so many things I could threaten you with… but I won’t, because we’re not at any odds, you see.”

She shot a meaningful look towards Shizuo, and Izaya instantly knew what she meant with that particular threat. To her credit, the lady was quite perceptive — she instantly sensed Izaya’s greatest weakness.

“If we’re not at odds, then how is it that you’re threatening me?”

“Oh, it is but a friendly piece of advice,” Iliana said. “Want another? You can do better than to trust the vampires you meet.”

Izaya took note of the plural.

“Are you going to tell me that you weren’t the witch who altered Padraig’s memories?” he asked lazily. He didn’t expect to hear any truths from the witch, but lies were just as important.

“Padraig who?” Iliana feigned ignorance, not even bothering to give it a believable performance. “This is a waste of your time, informant. Why don’t you go resolve your little disputes, instead of poking your nose where it doesn’t belong?”

The basis of their hatred towards informants stemmed from issues of jurisdiction. Informants held more legal power, and they were in essence entrusted with the power of truth, the _magic_ of truth. Witches couldn’t compel a person to speak truth, nor could they read minds, and that irritated them. This split in power was intended from start, but it didn’t mean the sorceresses were happy about it.

“I can agree with you on that, at least. On it being a waste of time, I mean,” Izaya smiled. “Why don’t you perform your lawful duty and recite to me the report from Lord Lorest’s crime scene?”

He said that and casually leaned back, enjoying the flare of anger that ran through Iliana’s features. She couldn’t legally refuse to deny that kind of request from an informant. The anger only lasted a second before she regained her composure and proceeded to diligently rattle off the facts.

“…In the end, the lingering energy at the mansion could not be traced to any living creature, putting the investigation at a dead-end,” she finished and gave him a playful smile.

A carefully constructed lie, Izaya had to accept it as that. He was positive she knew a lot more than she let on and he took special note of the weird phrasing of the report. Any living creature… an awkward phrase to use, because there were many different creatures roaming the Earth that weren’t living at all. It wasn’t information that was 100% reliable, but from then on Izaya decided to operate on the assumption that Lord Lorest’s killer was most likely a vampire in origin.

He bid the witch goodbye, and Shizuo took him outside, placing him back in the wheelchair.

“Hey, Izaya,” he said, crouching in front of him and adjusting a thin blanket over his motionless legs. “Is it OK if I run back and ask the witch a quick question?”

Izaya’s heart sped up at the question. It was both exciting and worrisome for him to send Shizuo back into the spiderweb of a sorceress. On one hand, he wanted to see Shizuo get absolutely tricked by the witch so he could torment him on it afterwards. On the other, there was a strange pinch at his heart when he thought on all the possible scenarios that could unfold if Iliana did succeed at deceiving his Shizuo.

The implications of him acting on his desire to have Shizuo just for himself were too heavy. He smiled condescendingly and waved his slender hand. “Go ahead, Shizu-chan. Knock yourself out. Remember my words, though.”

Shizuo curtly nodded and headed back inside.

 

!

 

“I thought that you would come see me on your own.”

Iliana greeted him as he entered the room, timid, the brightness of the furniture and the walls unsettling him. Everything was in shades of red, and that was an aggressive color by Shizuo’s book. The witch was lying on the couch when he walked in, underneath a crimson curtain that was embellished with glittering gems and busy embroidery.

“How so?” Shizuo asked, perplexed by her statement. Could witches read minds too?

“It seemed like there was a question on your tongue that you didn’t dare ask in front of your scary informant,” she explained, gracefully standing up.

She had a different air around herself, now that Izaya was gone. Most people seemed more tense, more hostile when the informant was present, and Iliana looked far more at ease when it was just Shizuo in the room. She gestured him towards a chair, and he took a seat, less brave than when he first walked in. What he meant to ask the witch, he really couldn’t bring up in front of Izaya. It was embarrassing to admit that he didn’t want to worry about Izaya anymore, even if it wasn’t the real him.

Iliana sensed his hesitancy and prompted him. "What is it, dear? You're so much more pleasant than that informant you follow so loyally," she said with a melancholic sigh. There was a tint of sadness in her eyes, which seemed out of character when Shizuo thought back on the way she acted around Izaya. She was so assertive and confident then.

Shizuo cleared his throat and began explaining. "I don't follow him by choice. There is a binding spell between us."

"Yes, I can see that,” Iliana readily nodded. “Masterful work, that spell. Very intricate. But what is it that you wanted to discuss in private, away from his ears?"

"Is there a way to modify this.. compulsion spell?"

"Sure thing, sweetie. Any spell can be modified or removed. I could do that for both of you, depending on what you're interested in. But have you mentioned this to your master? The informant will not loosen the leash on you, you know."

"No, I'm just wondering...” Shizuo paused to formulate his thoughts. “I'm resigned to do his orders when it comes to my actions. I really am. But could I stop feeling worried for him? It's bad enough that I have to obey him, but the spell compels me to think extra thoughts, too. I don't want to have feel anxious on his behalf. It'd really make my life better... and I think it irritates him too, he's bitched about the "fake" care before. So I think he'd be okay changing that part of the spell."

The witch's eyes flickered at the words. Her warm expression suddenly turned darker, as if she was deeply displeased with Shizuo’s words.

"You're a foolish child, but I can easily solve that problem for you, even without your informant's consent."

"Really? That easy?" Shizuo asked. It seemed too good to be true.

"Yes. For a price, of course," Iliana said playfully.

"I don't have any mon-"

"A kiss will do."

Shizuo's hands stilled, letting go of the little turtle that he was playing with. He picked it up from the desk to his right, anxious to busy his hands with something. "A kiss?" He asked, frowning. He didn’t understand why Izaya spoke so lowly of witches before, but the sudden invitation and the seductive tilt of the red-haired woman made him think that maybe Izaya was right. Maybe they were nothing but cunning and manipulative, only interested in playing games. Sort of like Izaya himself, except Shizuo had never seen him coercing people into kissing and whatnot. "Sorry, I shouldn't be here," he muttered, as he got up and headed towards the door.

"Dear," Iliana said serenely, "it is _just_ a kiss. I don't see honest men like you often, and it can get... really lonely here. Witches forfeit the right for a family the moment we receive the training... But I can dream of meeting a man who wouldn't feel repulsed to kiss me on my lips, can’t I?"

Shizuo hesitated at the door. "You'd honestly want that?"

She nodded, her smile wistful. "Silly, isn't it? We're supposed to be so powerful, yet just like any other human, we seek to be approved by someone else. As a woman, especially..."

Her words seemed sincere in their longing and sadness. Shizuo had kissed two women before this, and he had to admit he wasn't in the least bit repulsed by Iliana. She was a fair-skinned woman, with lips so soft and rosy that Shizuo thought that she could easily serve as an example of a beautiful woman in some book.

And he would be free from having to worry about Izaya. That thought tipped the scale for him, because he did hate being compelled to care for the flea.

"A kiss is fine, if it matters to you that much," Shizuo said, his face flushing. "Nothing else, though, and if it turns out to be some game, I will probably get really angry. Fair warning."

"Just a kiss," Iliana said and got up from her chair. She walked over to him and cupped his face with her hands, her movements full of grace and shyness. The kiss that followed when she leaned in and pressed her lips against his was almost magical in its nature. He distantly wondered if there wasn't actual magic involved, because the radiating warmth that spread through his being didn’t feel natural.

When she broke away, his breathing was uneven, but oddly enough, Shizuo was happy the kiss stopped. It tasted nice, but he didn't know the woman well enough to seek further intimacy with her. He licked his lips, tasting the faint echo of vanilla.

"Thank you," she smiled. "As for your request, you really are a foolish child. Everyone knows magic cannot control emotions. There is nothing for me to fix when it comes to the magic of the spell."

"What do you mean?" Shizuo staggered backwards. Somewhere deep inside, he already knew very well what she meant, but he was still in denial.

"Your worry for your informant is real. It's not part of the spell, because it cannot be. Trust me, because I am an expert at the magic of compulsion," Iliana cackled, and it sounded nothing like the sweet sound of laughing Shizuo had heard before. "You know, you're quite adorable in your cluelessness. Why don't you run to your beloved informant and tell him that you let a witch kiss you? Ah, what I wouldn't give to see the look on his face when he hears this news."

Shizuo's sight darkened, realization that he was deceived settling in. "What did you do to me?"

"Hurry up and go, _Shizu-chan_ ," she chuckled, using the nickname Shizuo hated so much with a slight accent.

An unseen force nudged Shizuo towards the door, and he was too lost in his thoughts to resist. He realized he was out of the house before he could get angry at the witch, but by then he was sobered by the cool morning air and that sinking feeling of having made a grave mistake. He stumbled down the stairs, and Izaya looked up at him from his book, red eyes cold and narrowed with judgment.

 

!

 

“You _idiot_!” Izaya hissed, still in the mild state of disbelief.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” Shizuo mumbled, as he pushed the wheelchair back to the town stables where a different horse awaited them. Swallow was still gone, researching the task Izaya had assigned to her.

“I can’t _believe_ you,” Izaya kept his cold attack on the monster. “I knew you were an idiot, but to kiss a _witch_?”

“What does a kiss fucking do?!” Shizuo asked, exasperated.

“It’s perfect grounds for a _spell_! She could’ve done _anything_ to you, depending on the duration of the kiss.”

Izaya didn’t want to know any details, but the duration was kind of important. “How long _was_ it?” he asked, annoyed.

“I don’t know,” Shizuo answered gruffly. “I lost the sense of time. How long was I gone?”

“Around twenty minutes.”

“So it must have been pretty long,” Shizuo said guiltily.

Izaya hadn’t felt this irritated in a long time. He gripped the armrests of the wheelchair until his knuckles paled, cursing himself for letting Shizuo walk straight into the sorceress’ web. _Of course_ , Shizuo would be such easy prey. He was a virgin, as far as Izaya knew. They both were, Izaya lacking any interest in the sexual act and Shizuo too busy feeling sorry for himself for being a monster to give women proper attention. But a witch could seduce even the most stone-faced of monks, and Shizuo was too empathetic and kind to refuse women.

Now Shizuo was a ticking time-bomb. There was no telling what Iliana did to him, but they would see soon enough, Izaya supposed. In general, a kiss was too mild of a connection to seal any serious magic with it, so Izaya didn’t feel too worried about that. What greatly irritated him was Shizuo’s gravitation and weakness for any pretty woman they met. Just last night he went to see Aira one-on-one, and now he readily kissed a witch.

“Stop being such a virgin,” he continued scolding him. “You do realize not all women are innocent? Just because they’re frail doesn’t mean they can’t hurt you.”

“I know that,” Shizuo bit back. “Fuck, Izaya, I already said I’m sorry.”

Before Izaya could continue chewing him out, Shizuo froze in his step and muttered. “And can you take that order back? It’s snapping my veins, but I don’t exactly know how to stop being a virgin in the fastest way. I know it’s possible, but—”

“I take it back,” Izaya quickly said before Shizuo figured out a way to interpret the order. He could easily ignore nonsensical or impossible orders, but losing virginity was quite achievable in the standard interpretation of it, so his momentary struggles were understandable. Shizuo took a deep sigh, relaxing. “Why did you even need to see her?” Izaya asked. In his anger he almost forgot about his curiosity about Shizuo’s reason for seeing the witch.

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” Shizuo said and pushed the wheelchair forward again.

“Secrets, eh,” Izaya said thoughtfully. He could easily order Shizuo to spill the beans, but that was no fun. “I’m going to punish you, Shizu-chan, for being so stupid,” Izaya sang a promise.

“My entire life is a punishment,” Shizuo said in a weak voice.

Izaya turned sideways, eying Shizuo’s embarrassed face. He could no longer deny to himself that he disliked Shizuo interacting with women so intimately. Another question burned on the edge of his tongue, desperate to slip out. “What happened with Aira last night?” he finally gave in, fixing his gaze forward again. They had almost made it to the stables.

“I just talked with her. She’s worried if we’re going to help her,” came Shizuo’s depressed answer. He seemed quite disappointed with himself for being fooled so easily, and Izaya would have greatly enjoyed the self-loathing currently on display if he wasn’t so irritated with himself for allowing Shizuo to walk in there. He had _complete control_ over Shizuo’s actions, yet he continually let the stupid monster do whatever he wished.

Deep inside, Izaya knew the real reason he was so reluctant to exercise control over Shizuo. If he allowed himself to care what the monster did in his regular life, the implications of _caring_ would weigh on his mind, making him ask all the wrong questions about what Shizuo truly was to him. He frequently nudged his humans towards a certain place, but he never ever had direct control over their actions, nor did he directly involve himself in their lives. To do so would be terrible, and it would completely destroy the source of his life’s excitement.

And yet in those moments Izaya had to admit it. If he could reverse the time, he would definitely order Shizuo to stay and not get kissed by someone else.

 

!

 

Swallow returned to him before sun went down.

Shizuo was downstairs, fixing something on Aira’s request, and Izaya lied in his bed, alone with his thoughts. He heard the hollow knock on the window and rolled his eyes when he saw the bird. She was mocking him by knocking, knowing that Shizuo wasn’t in the room and Izaya couldn’t get up to open the window. She bumped against the window a few times more, then finally slipped through the glass as if there was no glass at all.

“Very funny,” Izaya grinned. He did always appreciate Swallow’s ruthlessness.

She landed on the edge of the bed and transformed into her preferred human form: a female child of around ten years old, with black velvety ears on her head. Somehow, she managed to look the same in all forms, with the same air of playfulness coating her every movement. Her eyes were always that golden shade of amber, too. She analyzed her limbs, looking at them wide-eyed. First she flexed her shoulders, then she stretched an arm up and bent it at the elbow.

“Human body is the weirdest, after all,” she said slowly, articulating every syllable. She chose to speak Gaelic out of all languages, and Izaya frowned. His knowledge of Gaelic was a little lacking. “You want Japanese, don’t you?” she switched to Japanese, sensing his discomfort.

“Russian?” Izaya arched an eyebrow. She _would_ instantly nod, of course. It was unfair — puca were just too omniscient.

“Хорошо,” she murmured, tasting the words on her tongue. “Русский странно звучит.”

“Ah, let’s just go with English,” Izaya said with a bitter smile. He wished he could speak any language on demand like that. “What did you manage to uncover?”

She bounced on the bed, grinning at him. “I’ll help you, but only because it’ll bring about more interesting events. You should visit the town sewers three days from now, at night. Ahh, it’ll actually be a blood moon. Isn’t that just so exciting? Monsters will be dancing around! And not in the way you’re thinking, nuh-uh.”

Izaya was happy with that information. “Thank you,” he smiled happily at her, then grew serious. “Say, was your flight safe? There’s a powerful witch in town. She could have sensed a puca sniffing about.”

He allowed himself to care about the puca. She wasn’t human, and she was completely independent from him, only associating herself with him because of the entertainment he came across during his travels. She liked observing humans just as much as he did, and that forged a good alliance. The _best_ kind of alliance.

She laughed at his words of concern, the sound ringing through the air like pleasant music. “You know you’re one of the oddest humans I’ve ever talked to? You refuse to care about your humans, yet you express such genuine concern for a creature you call a _monster_.”

Izaya felt his smile widen, because Swallow was obviously referring to both herself and Shizuo, which meant that she read him like a book. “Spare me,” he sighed wistfully. “You know too much, Swallow. More than I do, actually. I still haven’t quite figured out some things.”

“You will soon enough,” Swallow waved her long tail. “Well, I’d best go for now,” she said when she heard footsteps outside the room. She disliked to be seen in her human form in front of other people, in front of even Shizuo whom she loved to torment so much in the form of a horse.

A swirl of golden particles, and there was that familiar shining black of feathers. The small bird gave him a painful peck on the cheek and darted out through the window as the door to the room creaked open.

Izaya rubbed his stinging cheek, wondering why the monsters he kept around himself liked hurting him so much.


	5. Chapter 5

Izaya awoke to a feeling so blissful, he hazily wondered if he wasn’t still deep in the dreamland. Warmth engulfed him from all sides, and there was a strange rhythmic sound that ushered him to fall back asleep. He hadn’t ever felt this way before, so his first reaction was to fight against the peace of the slumber, part of him a little panicked that maybe he had gotten drugged or spellbound. The heat and the comfort were so magically soothing that it actually irritated him.

That irritation helped him break whatever the spell was on him, and it was promptly followed by the feeling of absolute horror. In cold sweat, he realized that there was no magic or drugs in the picture, because Shizuo’s arms were wrapped around him in a tight embrace, and that rhythmic sound that was so captivating was Shizuo’s steady heartbeat. Izaya’s face was pressed against the warm chest, lips against naked skin and nose nuzzled in, and Izaya felt so affronted that for a second he was gaping and choking to make a sound, all the while tasting the salt of Shizuo’s skin.

“Shizuo!” he finally managed to hiss out something coherent.

Shizuo didn’t react, only hugging him closer. The feeling of bliss was completely undone, replaced with the fear of suffocation under the iron grip and the shock that Shizuo had the guts to just climb into Izaya’s bed and sleep next to him. Izaya pushed his arms against the man’s chest, still languid from his sleep, wishing he could jump out of the bed or at least kick Shizuo really hard. Without legs, wiggling out of someone’s hold proved much harder than he expected.

Finally, he managed to angle his body in a way where he could elbow the man in the face. Shizuo pulled away with a groan, hands covering his punched nose.

“What the fuck?” he asked sleepily and dared to look _offended_.

“I believe that’s my line,” Izaya said calmly, adjusting the sheets around himself. He licked his lips, wanting to forget the fact that he just tasted Shizuo. “What the fuck are you doing in my bed?”

Shizuo blinked, indignant. “You _told_ me to sleep next to you, flea.”

“Hmm? I didn’t tell you anything of the sort.”

Swallow left last night, and Shizuo entered to fix the blankets around him. Then Izaya fell asleep. That was the extent of Izaya’s memories from last night.

“No, last night you said that you were cold and that you wanted to be held, and you called my fucking name! The order was clear, so I _had_ to hold you!” Shizuo sputtered, a white sheet entrapping his foot as he tried to climb out of the bed and he tripped to crash onto the floor with a low-pitch grunt. He was wearing nothing but shorts, and Izaya swallowed, realizing that he was pressed up against that half-naked body for the entire night. He could still feel Shizuo’s residual warmth all over himself, and he wasn’t sure why he didn’t feel disgusted by it yet.

Shizuo probably wouldn’t lie about something like this, but was he implying that Izaya spoke in his sleep?

“I don’t believe you,” Izaya smiled, recognizing denial in himself but unable to accept the truth just yet. “Why would I say such ridiculous things?”

“You think I’d make that shit up?!”

“Let me read the truth,” Izaya insisted.

Shizuo stared down at him, then sighed. “You could just fucking believe me,” he huffed, but looked Izaya in the eyes anyway. Immediately, Izaya wished that he didn’t — the ocean of emotions in Shizuo’s eyes was so unsteady and stormy that Izaya got pulled in immediately, unable to break eye contact. Forcing past the current emotions of embarrassment and mild anger, he quickly latched onto the memory he wanted to inspect, and there they were, the images of him mumbling in his sleep, calling Shizuo’s name and asking him to hold him. What in the actual world. Izaya quickly looked away, before he witnessed any more of that atrocity or before he read any more of Shizuo’s confused emotions.

“I apologize,” Izaya said after a long awkward pause. He ran his hands over the sheets, folding them out for some reason. “That was probably the first time I forced you to do something inappropriate. I hope you’re not dumb enough to think that it was intentional. An unfortunate side-effect, I suppose,” he smiled charmingly in an attempt to diffuse the situation.

Shizuo rubbed the back of his head, probably taken aback that Izaya was apologizing.

“It’s fine,” he finally rasped, his voice still gone from the deep sleep. “I mean I didn’t really—”

“It’s not part of your duties, so it isn’t fine,” Izaya cut him short before Shizuo said something ridiculous. “Let’s just leave it at that, shall we? Help me dress, I’m hungry and I want breakfast.”

Shizuo obediently walked over to the wardrobe, pulling out Izaya’s garments. He brought them over to the bed, laying them out on the sheets.

“Hey, Izaya…” he asked hesitantly, grabbing him under the armpits and sliding him forward to the edge of the bed so he could begin dressing him. Izaya almost felt like a porcelain doll being moved around with such care. “Did you actually hate it?”

“Hate what?” Izaya asked automatically, buttoning his shirt up. Bitterly, he looked over the idle form of his pale legs — they looked as though they were getting skinnier by the day, most of the muscles probably atrophying. He wished Shizuo would hurry up and help him put the pants on.

“Ah, nevermind,” Shizuo said abruptly, with a bit of aggression. Izaya cocked his head, analyzing the strange behavior.

“Did I hate waking up in your arms, you mean,” he correctly guessed Shizuo’s unfinished question. He could have pretended to be oblivious, but it was more fun to poke the monster than to let him free. “Why do you ask?” he asked coyly. “Don’t tell me you enjoyed it.”

Shizuo threaded a belt through the loops on Izaya’s pants and clicked it together in front, his movements quick and rehearsed. He must have dressed Izaya a few hundred times by now. “I didn’t have a choice, but I didn’t really mind, I guess,” Shizuo said stiffly. “If it's something you need, I'd be okay doing it every night. It’s just sleep.” He was squatting in front of the bed, having finished dressing him up.

“Don't be silly, Shizu-chan,” Izaya said, extending a hand forward and ruffling Shizuo’s wayward locks. Predictably, Shizuo flinched away from his grasp. “I’m not so perverted that I’d put something like that in your duties. Listen to me very carefully on this — if you hear me speaking in my sleep, you’re free to disregard any order.”

“Okay,” Shizuo quickly nodded and got up.

Izaya suppressed a light sigh, shaking his head a little. The conversation felt surreal — Shizuo was in essence offering him _comfort_. Izaya knew that the reins of guilt and shame had a lot of control over the repenting monster, but he didn’t suspect they were drawn _that_ tightly. It was still mind-boggling to him that he had called out Shizuo's name when he was asleep, but stranger things had happened, or so he tried to tell himself. After all, Shizuo was around him all the time. Who else would Izaya be calling for? Shizuo was his _caretaker_.

Either way, Shizuo’s suggestion was truly ridiculous — like Izaya would ever abuse the chains he put on Shizuo to make him do something unseemly like that. He put them in place for many immoral reasons, but perverting the nature of their relationship wasn’t among them.

 

!

 

When Izaya spoke in his sleep last night, Shizuo had no choice, of course. He resisted as long as he could, all the while attempting to wake Izaya up so the man could retrieve the order. Appealing to his own logic didn’t help either — he tried to reason that Izaya didn’t really mean what he said because he was asleep, but the combinations of a weakly uttered _Shizu-chan_ and _can you_   _hold me_ and the sight of him shivering and chattering teeth almost made him vomit when he resisted the command. In the end he was forced to get up from his own little makeshift bed on the floor and dive under Izaya’s sheets.

It didn’t feel as wrong as it should have. He held him close trying to warm him up, feeling doomed to spend the night in the bed. At least in the morning Izaya looked positively horrified at the idea of himself asking for something like that, so Shizuo supposed it was sort of worth. Seeing that embarrassed expression on the insufferable face was enough reward in its own. Shizuo even offered to do it every night just to see Izaya’s face flush even more, knowing that Izaya would vehemently refuse. He himself had a great night of sleep, but he attributed it to the fact that sleeping in a bed was bound to be nicer than on the floor.

Aira had spoken with him a few more times since their midnight rendezvous. Shizuo still hadn’t really made an attempt at clearing things with Izaya about where he wanted to take Eirik Sherrows and the suspected corruption, because they hadn’t really learned anything substantial. Nevertheless, Aira’s growing discomfort and anxiety were almost palpable — she was more flippant and she was especially short with Izaya.

“What are your plans for today?” she demanded once they were seated for breakfast.

“Scary,” Izaya sighed under the intense stare of the heiress. “Is it alright to be so demanding of your guests?”

“Certain promises were made,” Aira said pointedly.

Izaya briefed her in on their progress, about the witch and her obvious lies, but made no mention of the information they got from Swallow. Aira seemed to relax when Izaya reassured her that he was planning to uncover the truth behind her father’s murder and the shady business that the witch and the sheriff were involved in.

Her spirits uplifted, she turned to Shizuo and asked him if he missed Japan. Shizuo frowned, startled by the sudden question directed towards him. In general, nobility rarely paid attention to him, writing him off as Izaya’s help, so he wasn’t used to making smalltalk at big tables like this.

“I suppose,” he gave a small shrug. “I mean, my brother lives in Cork now with his wife, and that’s not too far from here. I do have a few friends back in Japan that I’d like to see sometimes, but traveling is expensive.”

Izaya kept silent as he spoke, focused on his breakfast. Aira listened to him intently, as if Shizuo was talking about something truly interesting. He was a little taken aback by the strong interest, because he had assumed she would have Padraig on her mind these days.

“Anyway, why do you ask?” Shizuo said, stuffing another muffin in his mouth. “You been to Japan?”

Aira shook her head, red curls bouncing a little as she did that. “No, but our library has a lot of books on Japan. I was wondering if you would be interested to see them?”

“I could check them out,” Shizuo shrugged without much enthusiasm. Books were never really his thing.

“When are you free next?”

The invitation was in the open, hanging in the air like a rain cloud of sorts. Shizuo put down his glass of milk, a little terrified that he would have to reject her a second time. He couldn’t really afford to be running around with girls when he had to take care of a disabled person whom he was indentured to.

“Sorry, Aira, I really have to be with Izaya all the time,” he said as softly as he could.

Izaya finally chimed in, having kept silent the entire time. “Interesting how you’re so eager to jump on my companion when your father recently died and your childhood friend is still missing. He hasn’t shown up at the mansion, has he?”

“No,” Aira said, her face losing all color of mirth. “I apologize for overstepping my boundaries,” she added quietly.

“Oh, it’s quite alright,” Izaya drawled. “I wouldn’t even stop him if he was actually interested in you. Too bad he isn’t,” he giggled as Shizuo shot him an angry look. That was far too cruel. “Anyway, just a year ago — I remember it clear as day, by the way — you were hiding from your father’s perceptive eyes, sneaking off to play with Padraig. What happened to that love, I wonder? Spring over so soon?”

“It wasn’t serious, but it is none of your business,” Aira snapped, lowering her silverware against the plate with a clink.

Shizuo wished he could stop the argument, but he didn’t know how. Once Izaya got going, nothing could really shut him up.

“You remember me from last year, though, don’t you, Aira?”

“Of course, I do. You’re hardly a pleasant person to have around, but forgettable you are not.”

Izaya nodded, suddenly pensive. He took a final sip of his herb tea, grimacing a little at the too bitter taste. “Thank you for breakfast. Delicious as always,” he exclaimed politely, as if he didn’t just completely humiliate her in front of Shizuo. Aira didn’t grace him with a response, didn’t even move to look at them as they left the dining area.

Shizuo took him upstairs and put him on the bed. “That was uncalled for. Why do you have to be so cruel to her? She just lost her dad, Izaya.”

“I’m not sure,” Izaya said without a hint of shame. “I forbid you to meet with her one-on-one from now on, though.”

Shizuo blinked, the order making no sense. They had just made it blatantly obvious that Shizuo felt too responsible to pursue anything, with anyone. “Why’s that?” he finally asked.

“Something’s off,” Izaya said, a small wrinkle between his brows. “She made up a memory — last year I didn’t see her at the mansion, only the lord. As far as I remember, Aira was off performing at a festival in Cork. She went along with my made-up history.”

“What does that mean?”

“Either her memory is complete garbage, or her memories have been played with, or… she’s going along with the lie for whatever reason?” Izaya offered a few possible reasons, but from the unconvinced look he was sporting, he didn’t think it was any of that. “I don’t know,” he said, shrugging. “None of that seems to fit, but there has to be an explanation.”

“So you don’t want me interacting with her because…?” Shizuo asked, wondering if it was possible that Izaya was concerned about him.

“You’re my caretaker, Shizu-chan,” Izaya laughed. “I don’t care about you, _you_ care about me. Without you, I can’t really get far. And who’s to blame for that, hmm?” he asked, and the question shoved a knife through Shizuo’s heart.

He wished he was never cursed with this strength and temper. It was why someone like Izaya took note of him in the first place, and it was what destroyed Izaya’s life in the end. No amount of apologies could make up for that. All he could do was serve the remainder of the ten years to the best of his ability, hoping that that was enough.

 

!

 

Sometimes Izaya felt so tired and exhausted that he would fall asleep on Shizuo’s back. In those moments Shizuo would hunch forward a little, for fear of Izaya’s arms slipping free.

They almost made it to the sewers when Izaya woke up, an awkward crick in his neck. His face was pressed into Shizuo’s neck rather sharply, and Izaya thanked the gods that he didn’t drool in his sleep. Shizuo would have given him so much shit over it.

It was a little dangerous to go investigating the place Swallow pointed them to before the event, but Izaya needed to show Shizuo where to go and what to do. He himself couldn’t really come out to play because his red eyes and disability stood out too much. As for Shizuo, he was planning on having Swallow camouflage him a little bit for the occasion. He didn’t think Swallow would have any qualms with that, because in the morning she stopped by his room when Shizuo was out, confessing to an act that crossed all sorts of boundaries between the two of them.

_“How was your morning today?” she asked cheerfully, dangling her legs from the window sill. The playful tilt of her small head made him sense something was up._

_“My morning was splendid, thank you for asking,” he smiled, more in a show of teeth than anything else. The longer he stared into her mischievous amber eyes, the more it dawned on him. Why she was asking such a weird question and why he spoke in his sleep when he had always been a light sleeper. “You devil,” he narrowed his eyes. “Why would you do something like that?”_

_“Last night you said you hadn’t figured it out yet,” she giggled. “I took the liberty of speeding things up.”_

_“How?” he could only ask. “You can manipulate my thoughts? Things that I say?”_

_The possibility of her having that much control over humans terrified him, though he showed none of that emotion, keeping his smile wide._

_“Nah,” she waved her hand. “You’re overthinking it. All I did was freeze your blood a little so you’d feel really cold. Oh! I also laid a thick layer of sleep on you so you wouldn’t wake up and freak out. I didn’t actually think you’d speak in your sleep. That was an amazing stroke of luck! I thought our little Shizuo would just show some initiative and warm you up on his own. I’m glad it worked out the way it did,” she winked at him._

_“You owe me for this,” Izaya quickly said, reasoning that he was mistreated and jumping on the chance to take advantage of it. He wanted to protest against her insinuation that he supposedly wanted to be closer with Shizuo, but it was a little hard to argue with a being that claimed to know everything._

_“Alrighty,” she sang in acknowledgment as she flipped upside down, falling out of the window. They were on the fourth floor from ground, but seconds later he saw a little black bird swirling in the air._

_He wanted to feel violated, but there was no point in dwelling on the past. The weird hiccup wouldn’t affect his relationship with Shizuo — it was already long buried as far as Izaya was concerned — and now he had earned a favor from an omniscient being._

All in all, it was a good trade, he thought to himself, as he hugged Shizuo’s shoulders closer.

“Izaya—?” Shizuo froze in his step, and the abrupt stop made Izaya’s face bump into the neck he’d been nuzzling.

Suddenly, the reason for why Shizuo was calling out his name became obvious. Izaya had gotten so lost in his thoughts and reflections that he actually buried his nose in the nape of Shizuo’s neck without realizing it. There was a lot of physical proximity between them because of Izaya’s disability, but he never really crossed this kind of line before.

He cleared his throat, pointing forward. “We’re here, Shizu-chan!” Luckily, they were actually there, the old iron door that led into the sewers appearing to their right. Shizuo had been walking through a flooded channel for a while now, his shoes squelching from all the nastiness around them.

Shizuo turned his head a little, frowning in question, but after a mild shrug, he kicked the door down. Izaya decided against commenting on his brute ways of dealing with doors. Shizuo didn’t even try to see if the door was unlocked. It creaked open with a pathetic screech, its hinges rusted and unoiled, and they entered the dark halls.

The sewers were empty and judging by their sorry state, they were unused. At first Izaya paid great attention to all of the corridors they passed through, looking out for anything suspicious, but after a while it got tiring. There was nothing around them, aside from walls that were almost crumbling and rusting pipes that were falling apart. The stench was thick, too, reminding him of the time he and Shizuo got trapped in a ship’s compartment with barrels of rotting fish.

He was about to give up on this entire excursion and just send Shizuo down here on the scheduled day to figure things out for himself, but then they hit a small narrow pathway that led them to a bigger area that looked nothing like the original sewers. It was a well-lit room, parts of it renovated, rest built from anew. The walls weren’t covered with shit, the smell was actually bearable, and by the look of the stairs that led down into the room, it meant to host a sizable amount of people. Not quite a hundred, but seventy? Rather comfortably.

Shizuo approached the center of the room where an elevated square surface was surrounded by a post at each corner, ropes joining them together.

“If I had to make a bet, I would guess this is a fighting arena,” Izaya grinned into the back of Shizuo’s head. Of course, the joke was lost on the beast because Shizuo only grunted something incoherent in response.

There was no mistaking it, though. This must have been the fight the two unknown men from Padraig’s broken memories talked about. A boxing match of sorts? Padraig looked more than a little too weak to make for a good fighter, so the meaning of the threat was lost on Izaya for the time being.

Izaya felt a little uneasy about lingering there for too long, for fear of someone coming down there and spotting them. Before they headed back, he urged Shizuo to memorize the location because he would be the one to return there.

 

!

 

Back at the mansion, Aira greeted them with a look of worry that was all too familiar by now. She had been so anxious recently that Izaya struggled to remember the girl he met more than a year ago who was nothing but smiles and charms. Nowadays, a small wrinkle seemed to be forever indented between her brows, and her lips were always thinned.

“Aira, dear, you should take a moment and relax sometimes,” Izaya said amiably. He was sitting on a sofa, the soft material relaxing his tensed muscles. They had been awfully busy recently.

“Informant, you have a visitor,” Aira said, her arms folded on her chest.

“Oh?”

“It’s an Inspector,” she whispered in what sounded like defeat, her resigned sigh conveying the full sense of doom that she had felt in that moment.

That was a wild turn of events. Silenced, Izaya nodded. He had to see an inspector when he met one. This could only mean one thing — that they had gotten dangerously close to the town's secrets, and now certain people with connections cried for help from up the ladder.

Minutes later a rather disgusting person entered the room. He was wearing the traditional outerwear of a governmental employee, and there was that smug smirk splattered across his face. People with bureaucratic power tended to be either snappy and insecure, or overconfident with the air of unfounded self-importance. Observing all the signs of the latter, Izaya eyed the man with little enthusiasm.

“Izaya Orihara,” he introduced himself formally. “Originally licensed in Tokyo, Japan, now responsible for the country of Kerry.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Ori-ha-ra,” the man articulated his name and plopped down in the chair in front of him. “I’ve come to deliver an official warning for you. The Guild of Inspectors would like you to stop investigating the murder of Lord Jay Lorest, effective immediately.”

“There must be a mistake, dear Inspector. I’m not investigating the case,” Izaya answered lazily. “You see, the local sheriff didn’t think it was necessary for me to conduct any inquiries. Even though one of the Five Lords was murdered in cold blood… isn’t that strange?”

The man who hadn’t bothered to introduce himself shifted his legs at the statement. “You can claim anything you want, but this order comes from above, Mr. Orihara. You’d be wise not to ignore it.”

“You’ve been heard,” Izaya nodded. “Would that be all?”

“Consequences would be dire,” the man warned him once more before he got up to leave.

“Yes, yes, you’ve made yourself clear.”

Later on, lying in his bed, Izaya excitedly thought about the delicious corruption that was rampant in this town. The visit from an Inspector only further fueled the fire of his curiosity, and there was no way he was backing out now. Shizuo sat on the floor, by his bedside, looking up and frowning at him from time to time.

“What’s gotten under your skin this time, Shizu-chan?” Izaya sang a question, his happy mood spilling into his speech.

“Stop looking so fucking happy,” Shizuo sighed. “Bad things are happening in this town, flea.”

“Yes, they are,” Izaya licked his lips in anticipation. “I can’t _wait_ till we see what happens down in the sewers.”

“What will you do once you learn the truth?”

“I’ll decide then, of course,” Izaya said, a little amused by the futility of such a question. As if he could decide such things ahead of time — no, he needed to see the entire board, and only then he would begin making moves. He still didn’t know who those two men were, nor did he uncover the big secret the town was so desperate to hide. Having seen the deepest corners of the human nature, Izaya knew it had to do with one of the three: money, power or sex. Possibly a combination of those.

“Aira asked me to meet her again,” Shizuo said quietly, when Izaya calmed down from his thoughts and began reading.

Izaya almost frowned at the words, feeling like his parade got rained on. “ _Again_? So awfully insistent... are you sending her mixed signals?”

“No,” Shizuo shook his head. “She just seems really worried. She thinks now that an Inspector paid you a visit, you will definitely give up on the whole thing.”

“And you’re concerned about her?”

“Girl’s trying to do the right thing.”

“So you want to go meet her. Even after I said you shouldn’t.”

“I mean—”

“Well, go, then. Go see your new friend,” Izaya said with a venomous smile, fully aware that he was issuing an order.

Shizuo jolted up, getting up on his feet. “Take that order back,” he growled through his teeth, as familiar blue lines of veins and capillaries shot through his features. Izaya had seen him resist an order before, and it always looked like an unpleasant state to be in. Veins popped throughout his skin, and his eyes filled with blood. Sometimes the blood vessels popped, too.

“No,” Izaya said coldly, turning back to his book. “You want to see her, you should see her.”

Shizuo couldn’t stay. Cursing Izaya for being such a fucking baby, he stormed out of the room, slamming the door shut with a loud bang on the way out. Left alone, Izaya threw his book away and stared at the ceiling, wondering why it irritated him that Shizuo cared that much about the girl. In a rare moment of self-doubt, he thought on the possibility that he wanted to suspect Aira _because_ Shizuo seemed interested in her. There was something off about the heiress — he felt that from start — but she had expressed interest in Shizuo from start, too. Was it correlated? Because no matter how much he struggled to catch Aira doing something out of the ordinary, she really did just act like a recently orphaned girl whose father was brutally murdered, with no one in town batting an eyelash. On the surface, she was nothing but an innocent human who was wronged, yet Izaya desperately tried to attribute something else to her. Was it really something as pathetic as feelings of jealousy?

Now that he had actually forced Shizuo to be with the girl, he had to admit to himself that feelings must have clouded his judgment. The childish order was an irrational act, and once again, Swallow was right about him. He did want Shizuo for himself. Except for better or for worse, he had shot himself in the foot. He imagined right about then Shizuo was probably hitting it off with the grieving girl, anger and sadness traditionally making for one hell of an aphrodisiac.

When Shizuo came back not five minutes later, Izaya was barely an inch from tumbling off the bed, trying to reach the book that he threw away in anger. His fingertips could _almost_ brush the covers.

“Huh,” Izaya blinked, looking up at the opened door. He didn’t expect Shizuo to be back for at least half an hour. “That fast?”

“What?” Shizuo barked. “I saw my _new friend_ ,” he said sarcastically. “Once I laid my eyes on her I could return. Stop ordering me to do dumb shit, Izaya.”

He walked over and propped him up, putting him back in bed. “You want your stupid book?” he asked as he picked it off the floor.

“Nah,” Izaya said quietly as Shizuo threw the book towards him. “I don’t feel like reading anymore.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe a little bit of gore description in this chapter -- since the fic doesn't have any warnings, please watch out.

There was a time in Shizuo’s life when he believed Izaya to be the worst human being to ever walk Earth. Just thinking about Izaya would fill him with rage, halting all manner of rational thought, and Shizuo foolishly believed that he would do humanity a favor if he was to kill Izaya once and for all. Those feelings of hatred were rooted on a personal level. Izaya had undone a lot of progress in Shizuo’s life by continually enraging him and eventually driving him into a temporary fit of insanity where he did almost manage to kill him. But a big part of his disgust was based on morals, too. If both of them were placed in a vacuum and they never interacted with each other, Shizuo would have still greatly disliked him based on who Izaya was as a person.

That belief of Izaya being the worst was at one point firmly set in stone, but it wavered with time. It wasn’t because Izaya redeemed himself in some way. No, he remained his usual self when it came to finding entertainment in people and juggling their lives like nothing mattered. Shizuo’s gradual shift in thinking came with a change of perspective, a broader scale, a bigger view on human life. The bad things he had seen Izaya do couldn’t compare to the unthinkable acts some other people committed, and god, did some people do so much worse. Izaya knew how much the lack of good and moral in the world unsettled Shizuo, and sometimes he took sadistic joy in putting humanity’s worst on bare display for Shizuo, forcing him to watch, learn and witness what other people were capable of.

Shizuo didn’t think himself a _good_ person, but he sure was better than some. And Izaya, as much as he hated to admit, was better than some, too.

He walked through the night of the town, hands deep in pockets, feeling like a stranger. He was indeed a stranger in a foreign land, but he had often felt the same way traipsing along the roads of Japan.

Towns were normally deserted at night, but tonight was a special occasion so the streets were filled with celebrating folk, with dancers and singers filling the air with chants. Above people’s heads and building's roofs hovered a crimson moon, illuminating the surroundings with a shade of red. Izaya sneered at the excitement people held for the celestial event, claiming it held no magical meaning, despite the established belief. Shizuo was inclined to side with Izaya on this, as he kept a fair distance from the walking march of celebration.

For that night, his outward appearance was altered by the puca. At first she playfully suggested to turn him into a woman, but Izaya put a stop to that idea, much to Shizuo’s relief. Izaya reasoned that a single woman could attract too much unwanted attention, but some part of him looked genuinely disturbed by the idea of a female Shizuo.

So there he was, walking up to the sewers from the right direction this time around, looking like your typical Irish pub frequenter. He walked down the dark cobblestones of stairs, and for some reason he wasn’t worried at all. His strength was still present in his body, after all.

The bouncer at the door sized him up skeptically. “Password,” he spat at Shizuo’s feet.

Shizuo glared back at him, his intuition telling him this was a bad person. “The view from Hell is blue sky*,” he muttered, suppressing the urge to punch the guy instead. Without Izaya around him, his anger was on a looser leash because there was no one around with the power to stop him.

The bouncer looked mildly disappointed, having hoped to shoo off a random wanderer, and stepped to the side, letting Shizuo in. “So ominously blue*,” he cackled as Shizuo passed by. He had no idea what the words were supposed to mean.

The place was packed to the gills — Shizuo looked around, looking for a seat, but before he could proceed to one, he noticed a booth in the underground arena that wasn’t there three days ago.

_Take a look at everything that’s new or odd._

Izaya’s words rang in his ears, and Shizuo made his way over to the booth, eying the person inside. The man raised his eyebrows, slapping down a bunch of papers onto the surface in front of him.

“You betting or what?”

“Betting?”

“Yeah. You have to bet if you’re here. You new?” the man looked at him surprised, but there was no suspicion in the eyes. He didn’t seem to question anyone who was present, the password probably deemed as enough protection to keep the unwanted eyes out.

“What would I bet on?” Shizuo asked, looking around. People shoved past him, slamming down purses of coin on the table and registering their bets with the apparent bookmaker. Most of the people present seemed to be men, though there were a few couples that looked wealthy, perhaps even wealthier than Aira was.

Once they left, the man turned back to Shizuo and licked his dry lips, separating a piece of paper off the stack in front of him. “Bet on whatever you like. Most people already know what they’re planning to bet on when they come here.” He handed Shizuo the sheet, and he skimmed it, feeling out of place. Each line consisted of two names, ten entries total. That was a lot of fights, Shizuo vaguely thought.

“I’d bet on Mosquito if I were you,” the man suggested, adjusting his pince-nez. “Last time he was on the ring, it wasn’t even close.”

 _A boxing match of sorts,_ Shizuo remembered what Izaya said out loud once. “Okay,” Shizuo nodded and chose random names out of the bunch, including the suggested “mosquito”, putting down the money Izaya had wisely given him.

_Try to sit closer to the fighting ring, but not so close that you can’t see the rich folk._

Easier said than done, because almost every seat was taken. Shizuo waded through the filled rows, sitting down on one of the stone benches to the side. The rich sat in rows with more comfortable seating, and he had a good look at them from where he was. He scanned each row, trying to focus on each face, because such were Izaya’s instructions.

The noises and people’s chatter were getting on his nerves. Taking out his smoking pipe, he crossed his legs, mentally preparing himself to spend the next few hours in that spot. By the look of people in attendance, it really was going to be a boxing match that the rich of the town enjoyed attending. What a waste of time, he thought not without irritation. He did enjoy watching a good spar, but it wasn’t worth being stuck in a smoke-filled room for hours.

The gong rang out, and the master of ceremonies walked out into the center, announcing the opening fight in a loud voice. Surprised by the volume of the man’s voice that seemed to carry through the area, Shizuo looked up and saw a balcony where a number of gorgeous women were sitting. Immediately, he recognized Iliana among them, further deducing that her neighbors must have been witches too. They all carried the same air of superiority and power. A woman dressed in blue had her arm extended over the rail of the balcony, and Shizuo realized that it was her magic that carried the man’s voice across the large room.

He made sure not to look up there again, for fear of Iliana catching his gaze and recognizing him despite his masked appearance.

Two men entered the fighting ring, and Shizuo frowned, realizing both of them were vampires. A fight between two vampires made little sense, because vampires were traditionally quite powerful. A boxing match between the two of them could last forever, with neither budging in or taking any injury at all. How would the judges decide a victor? Of course, Shizuo realized, vampire boxing could have entirely different rules.

Still, he felt a little disappointed. He would have preferred to watch humans spar, because human strength was actually limited. Well, aside from his own, he supposed. That was why he never really entertained any ideas of becoming a fighter — it felt too much like cheating with his body bordering on being supernatural.

His lips dropped the pipe when the fight started.

The vampires leapt onto each other, and within seconds one of them started ripping the flesh of the other, tearing a mouthful of meat off the other’s neck. Darkened blood squirted out in a small stream, but that wasn’t the end of it. The losing vampire grabbed the other by the thigh, and in one swift slash his metamorphosed claws almost cut off the entire leg below the grip. Shizuo’s heart rate felt like it stilled, because he realized he was witnessing a fight to the _death_. As if in a nightmare, he slowly looked around, trying to gauge other people’s reactions. No matter where he looked, people were cheering and yelling and booing.

Within seconds, the vampire with a slashed leg shoved an arm through the other’s abdomen, and that marked the death of him. He slumped on the floor, deoxygenated blood pooling around his decimated torso. Vampires couldn’t die unless their bodies were maimed to a point where tissue was irrevocably destroyed.

“And the winner is Reese!” the man exclaimed, his voice cutting through the air through the use of magic and exploding Shizuo’s frozen mind.

His vision darkened, because he finally realized the nature of the event. It wasn’t a boxing match with fair rules and regulations. It was a gathering of rich people throwing vampires into the ring and watching them kill each other. His breathing grew irregular, his entire essence horrified at the idea, part of him refusing to believe in it, refusing to be there, refusing to be a part of the whole process that should have never even happened.

He had  _bet_ on Reese. He bet on a vampire to kill another. He sponsored this.

He stood up, rage flowing through his blood.

_Don’t act on your anger. Don’t do anything that would make you stand out._

Izaya’s words rang in his mind, clear and agonizing, and he collapsed onto the floor, knees hitting the ground painfully, because his next action was to go into the ring and stop the next two from fighting. The spell reminded him of the orders currently in place, binding him into a state of paralysis.

He pressed his forehead against the cold stone of the floor, a quiet growl escaping his mouth. Sounds of flesh tearing, of vampires shrieking and hissing rang through his hollow mind. His own blood vessels were tightened to their max, and he felt real physical pain shooting through his body, some of the taut vessels popping open inside of him.

_Breathe, Shizu-chan. When it gets bad, remember to breathe._

He breathed, his nose filling up with moisture because he was both crying and drooling from the stress his body was fighting through. Breathe in, breathe out. The gong rang out again, and he knew the second match was over. He didn’t look up to see who won. He blocked out the voice of the announcer.

_You can’t leave until the event is over. Watch the people. Watch their reactions._

He looked up, setting his blurred gaze ahead, looking over the row that hosted the most luxuriously dressed. Their eyes gleamed, their faces merry and full of genuine engagement. Men exchanged excited looks, while the women kept a more composed look though none looked in the least bit concerned or disgusted.

Nausea washed over him, and he retched, coughing up vomit in violent gasps and his attempts to breathe were completely undone. He wanted to shout at the people cheering, but it would attract attention, and even his current position was driving him insane. His reaction was making him stand out among the happy crowd, and he received an order to blend in with people.

Minutes later, he managed to stabilize himself into a state where he could block it out. He watched the rich through a layer of tears that he had no control over and sometimes he took quick looks at the ring. At some point it seemed like an eternity had passed, and he was inured to the violence on display, his mind realizing that it needed to shut down, or Shizuo’s body would self-destruct under the chains of the spell.

No one even noticed him. He looked like he was dying even though he wasn’t, but everyone’s eyes were glued to the fight they glorified and admired. His ears caught words people were shouting, of how these fights were the best because they were so raw and unrestrained. _This is what vampires are useful for!_ a man cried out.

He woke up when the area started clearing out and he stumbled to get up. Leaning against the wall, he grasped for the last of his strength, and he focused on Izaya’s voice in his head, telling him to breathe.

Shizuo breathed, breathed all the way home, and when he entered their room, Izaya was sitting on the edge of the bed. Red eyes looked up to meet his, and Shizuo dropped his head into Izaya’s lap, his eyes long dry and his mind turned off.

 

!

 

“Shizu-chan.”

Shizuo returned to him a complete mess. He sat motionless on the floor, his head dropped on Izaya’s thighs, and normally Izaya would shove him off, but he supposed some words of comfort were in order.

He wasn’t surprised. There had to be something truly terrifying going down at the sewers, and the orders he had given Shizuo ahead of time clearly reflected that expectation. He knew Shizuo would try to stop anything that he disagreed with, and that was why Izaya tied his hands. Shizuo returning to him in this pathetic state was anticipated, through it was the first time Izaya had seen him so out of it.

“Wake up, Shizu-chan,” Izaya said quietly, running a hand through the locks that were drenched with sweat. Shizuo mumbled something incoherent into Izaya’s legs, but Izaya couldn’t feel the vibrations the sounds probably made against his body. His legs had no feeling left.

Shizuo didn’t react any further than that, and Izaya sighed, feeling a little irked. He was dying to know what happened, but he’d have to replay Shizuo’s memories for that, so he needed eye contact.

“Look up, Shizuo,” he ordered in a louder voice. Shizuo moaned in protest, slowly looking up. The pain in Shizuo’s eyes was beautiful. Blood shot through the white of his eyes, and his thick eyelashes were lumped together in bunches. _He cried so much_ , Izaya thought as he ran a thumb underneath Shizuo’s right eye. The eye contact was established, and he was about to dive deep into Shizuo’s head when the man flinched, looking away.

“I c-can’t,” he breathed out, shoving his head back down. Izaya’s eyes widened. Shizuo was a bigger mess than he had thought.

“I need to read your mind, Shizu-chan.”

Silence.

“Look me in the eye, Shizuo,” Izaya ordered again. “Look me in the eye and nowhere else until I say you can.”

Shizuo slowly looked up, and impatient, Izaya grabbed a handful of the blond’s locks, craning the monster’s neck. “P-Please, Izaya,” Shizuo begged as he stared right into his eyes with the most strained expression Izaya had seen on him. His teeth were gnawed together, gritting out a painful sound. His eyes were dried, but a few more tears still managed to well up in them as he weakly held onto Izaya’s elbow, trying to free himself. The effort was surface-only, because Shizuo couldn’t deny Izaya anything. “I c-can’t, I don’t want to, I can’t see it again.”

“You have to, Shizu-chan,” Izaya crooned, holding Shizuo’s head up and looking at him with an expression that bordered on loving. “You belong to me.”

He dove into the monster’s mind, swimming through the most recent memories. Shizuo’s consciousness resisted as much as it could, fighting off the invasion, but Izaya was ruthless, demanding surgical light over places the panicked mind was desperate to hide. Shizuo trembled in his hold, as his memories were being re-lived in his mind. The more Izaya saw, the more it made sense that Shizuo was falling apart like that. The greatest damage was done by the third couple of fighters — two vampires that looked no older than the age of twelve, one of them a girl. And just to make the matters worse, the very last fight (a small bonus as the announcer called it) showed Padraig being thrown against some vampire named Mosquito, and the boy’s body was torn into a hundred shreds within thirty seconds.

He took note of Iliana and her minions — the witches were obviously there to prevent the vampires from leaving the ring. Witches were the entire reason why vampires obeyed humanity; vampires were infertile, so the world’s magic was unavailable to them. Only the vampires of the highest order could fight off a witch due to the sheer strength of their abilities, but those vampires were rare and they tended to cooperate with humans because of their greed for power and money. They had no sympathy for their fellow kin of lower levels, didn’t care that they had almost no civil rights in society.

In the rows that Shizuo scanned, Izaya recognized the two faces he caught in Padraig’s memories. Judging by the seating and the colors worn by them, they had to be two of the four remaining lords in power. He had to learn their names as soon as possible.

Izaya relaxed his grip on Shizuo’s hair, deciding against replaying the events for the second time. The pain in Shizuo’s mind was so agonizing, it transferred into his own and that felt unpleasant. “You can look away now, Shizu-chan.” Shizuo dropped his head lifeless on Izaya’s lap, his arms wrapping around Izaya’s lower body, hugging him close.

“Now, now, what do you think you’re doing?” Izaya said softly, but didn’t resist. The monster had reverted into the state of a terrified puppy, and he needed comfort. That Shizuo subconsciously sought comfort from Izaya was surprising, but there was no else in the room, he supposed.

He kept running his hand through Shizuo’s hair, caressing and massaging the back of his head. “Traumatic, huh?” he asked, sending a question into the deafening silence that was only disturbed by Shizuo’s occasional whimper. “I don’t see why it should be so traumatic, but I know you can’t help feeling this way.”

He didn’t expect an answer, but Shizuo tightened his grip around Izaya’s body and growled. “I will _kill_ them!” He looked up, breathing so hard that his nostrils were blown apart. “ _Let_ me, Izaya. Let me fucking kill each and every one of them!”

Izaya laughed, leaning forward and pressing a kiss on Shizuo’s dirtied nose. “This is why I hate you, Shizu-chan. You’re so utterly convinced that there is a right and wrong in the world.”

Shizuo flinched away from the kiss, his fist half-forming into a punch, but the spell would never let him deliver one. “Shut the fuck up, Izaya. How could you possibly imply that what happened there ISN’T wrong?”

“I see you’re coherent again,” Izaya said coldly, as his hands left Shizuo’s hair alone. Shizuo’s head remained on his lap, chin visibly digging into the legs, but Izaya couldn’t feel it. “Why would you say it’s wrong? Humans decided to do it. Why would you kill them over it?”

“Because they’re not humans!” Shizuo muffled into his lap, face down. “T-They… they enjoyed that. You _saw_ their faces, Izaya. You saw that not a single fucking person in there had a problem with vampires being forced into _that_.”

“Yes, I did see them,” Izaya smiled. “That’s why I told you to watch the audience, Shizu-chan. I wanted to observe them enjoying what was on display.”

Shizuo looked up, eyes burning bright with a question. “Would _you_ enjoy that? _Would_ you, Izaya?”

“No,” Izaya shrugged. “I couldn’t take joy watching vampires go at it. Humans, maybe, but it depends on circumstances.”

Shizuo staggered off of him. “Sometimes I think you’re better than some people, Izaya, because there are some truly terrible people out there,” he said in a trembling voice. “But other times I’m not sure. You might be worse than anyone because you don’t feel. You watch people break, you watch people fall, you watch them get up, you watch everything. _Everything_ that humans do is of interest to you. That’s not fucking _right!_ ”

“And if that makes me the worst person in existence, so be it,” Izaya bared his teeth in a smirk. “I love everything about humans, and I can’t help it. I don’t need your approval to exist like this.”

“They’re not HUMANS!” Shizuo bellowed. “They’re the ones who are monsters, just like you are.”

“No, Shizu-chan, monsters are you, Swallow, the vampires…” Izaya trailed off. “What you witnessed was human nature. Power. Mob security. Superiority of the human race. You know why people look down on you? You know why vampires still have no rights, despite walking alongside humans for centuries? Because ordinary people are _scared_ of you, and they’re scared of them. They shove the creatures they call monsters down so they can be above them, so they seem stronger, so they can feel safe. You know why they pit them against each other in that gruesome show? They’re _celebrating_ themselves! They want to watch monsters _act_ like monsters. They look at the blood, flesh, the gore and they think — well, that’s not a human, is it? That’s a _monster_ , and monsters are worse. People _create_ monsters to feel better about _themselves_. That’s what happened down there, Shizu-chan, and it is entirely human. Only humans could do that.”

He paused, filling his lungs with a much needed breath. It wasn’t a tirade or a rant, but he did speak very fast, excited by the subject.

“You want me to separate good and evil, but it’s impossible to draw the line. Ah, enough of this talk. Come, Shizu-chan,” Izaya gestured him closer, and Shizuo stumbled back to sit in front of him, tears streaming down his cheeks again. “I’d tell you to stop crying and you would, of course, but you’re beautiful like this,” Izaya flicked a tear that was trickling down the dirtied cheek. “Keep crying if you want, Shizu-chan. This is why _I_ brand you a monster. You defy the human nature I described above. You don’t act on fear. You don’t destroy for your own gain. You get irritated at what you consider injustice, and you want to fix it with your overly strong hands, try and force the world back into some order, but it’s futile. You could fix one thing, you could stop those vampires from getting hurt, but a similar thing will always resurface to take its place. So leave it be, Shizu-chan. Let humans be.”

“It’s worth it if you fix something. Anything,” Shizuo muttered, stubborn. The conversation brought him back to life somewhat, his body slowly recovering the damage it sustained. There was less blood in the eyes, and his hands didn’t shake any more.

“You’ve had a long day,” Izaya said, losing his smile for a flicker of a second. “Do you want to sleep in my bed tonight?”

Shizuo stared at him in silence, processing the question. “Yes,” he said after a pause.

“You can put me down on the floor then,” Izaya said, looking over the sheets on the floor where Shizuo usually slept. “I don’t want to tumble down, you know.”

“It’s fine,” Shizuo said and scooped him with one arm, both of them falling on the sheets.

He seemed to have misunderstood Izaya’s intentions, but with Shizuo’s head buried in his chest, Izaya couldn’t really find a reason to force himself out of his own bed. The breathing against his skin evened within a minute, and no matter how much he tried, Izaya couldn’t bring himself to feel disgusted by the monster next to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Reference to a Queens of the Stone Age song, "Keep Your Eyes Peeled"


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long break, if anyone is still interested in this. Got distracted with another story, but I'll try to finish this by November! This chapter is pretty interlude-y and elaborates on their past in this 'verse, but there'll be a lot of action in the next one.

Without Swallow’s sleeping spell, spending the night next to Shizuo was terrible.

The monster had a fitful night of sleep, tossing on the sheets and elbowing Izaya every now and then. His generosity at its end, Izaya tried to wake him up and send him off to sleep on the floor, but Shizuo’s sleep was too heavy. When sun rays started hitting his heavy eyelids, Izaya let out a small sigh of relief because the end to his suffering was near. He barely got any sleep, but at least it allowed him to sort out his thoughts.

Lord Lorest most likely invested Izaya’s money into the fighting ring, perhaps in some makeshift alliance with the sheriff and other Lords, an alliance that eventually fell apart. They hid their activities because the moral backlash would be too strong — vampires had no civil rights so throwing them into a fight to death wasn’t technically illegal. But not everyone would be on board with such torture, and Killarney did have a sizable population of vampires. That was probably why they wanted to keep it secret to an enclosed circle of rich people. If that was true, only one question remained — why would they dispose of Lorest? What kind of events led to the man’s downfall? Even after uncovering the town’s dirty little secret, Izaya knew all too little about what actually went down between the lord and the rest of the town’s elite.

Shizuo was too heavy for someone who looked as lean as him. Izaya fidgeted under the weight of Shizuo’s head that was resting on his chest. At least he was a lot warmer in temperature, so he had that nice function of being a heater. Izaya’s own limbs felt icy, and he carefully cupped Shizuo’s neck in an attempt to warm his numb fingers. Physical intimacy wasn’t anything of interest to Izaya; the only reason he felt good was because of the warmth that radiated from Shizuo’s body. Being paraplegic, Izaya had lost all feeling below the waist, and therefore, sexual arousal wasn’t possible for him. He ran his hands over Shizuo’s neck and shoulders, surmising he had the full right to do so. Shizuo stubbornly chose to misinterpret Izaya’s intentions last night, and that meant that he didn’t mind physical touch from him.

It was strange.

Fate reminded Izaya of a playful joker sometimes, with the way their lives unfolded. That Shizuo would willingly lie next to him and hold him... Izaya wasn’t sure if he could see it as his victory over the monster.

Staring at the red line of the dawn outside their window, he wondered if it _was_ a victory. His thoughts darted back to the day they first met, and how their lives were entwisted from then on.

 

!

 

The first time he met Shizuo was, to say the least, interesting.

They had grown up in the same area, but Izaya was thirteen when he first laid eyes on the kid. He witnessed the full glory of Shizuo demolishing the entirety of the dojo that Izaya was enrolled in. A scrawny child with wild brown hair that stuck out everywhere, he was using his small fists as if they were made of metal, crumbling walls, tearing out tatami from the floor, even putting the effort in to snap all the bokken in half. His hitched roars shook the air, and everyone scattered, leaving the crazy demon kid alone.

Everyone except for Izaya, who climbed a nearby tree, watching him with what could be best described as “fascination.”

He had heard about this kid from a friend, but Shinra never thought it apt to mention that Shizuo was a full fledged _monster_. Rationality urged Izaya to accept that it had to be a human because there were very real monsters wandering in the world, but excitement clouded his judgment, making him go with the gut feeling of preferring the label of a beast.

When fury finally left Shizuo’s eyes, Izaya loudly whistled to get the boy’s attention. He was on an eleventh branch from the ground, feeling safe up there. Sure, the kid could demolish the thin walls of a dojo, but a massive tree trunk, Izaya felt, was protection enough. He wanted to talk to the boy, if only to see that the monster was capable of understanding human speech.

“Huh?” the kid blinked at the sound, looking around and finally catching sight of Izaya. “What are you doing up there? You need help?”

He walked over to the roots of the tree, looking up, brown eyes wide and innocent. None of that seething anger that Izaya had just witnessed -- all of it had dissipated. The overwhelming anger had cleared like thunderclouds sometimes dispersed to reveal an innocuous blue sky, and Izaya almost frowned, because he enjoyed seeing it too much. He didn’t want to see these big brown eyes that were so vexingly innocent.

“Hi,” Izaya smiled down at the boy. “Orihara Izaya. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

And that was when Izaya had read Shizuo’s emotions for the first time, because the kid had probably never heard of informants, staring straight into the crimson of Izaya’s eyes. He glared, brows slowly knitting together to form a deep frown, and the innocence that Izaya was reading slowly morphed into a surge of pure, undistorted hatred.

“I don’t like you!” the kid exclaimed and turned around to stalk off, kicking up dirt under his feet.

Izaya read other things in the kid’s mind. The fear and resignation that he was abnormal, the desperate desire to be like everybody else, and a quick consideration of ripping the tree that Izaya was sitting on out of the ground as if it was a totally real possibility. The kid decided against it because the tree looked ancient, and he didn’t want to destroy nature too much. The thought process was truly fascinating in how unusual it was.

Yet underneath it all, what burned the brightest was the rejection. The _ultimate_ rejection that unsettled Izaya into shocked silence that he masterfully hid behind a veil of a smile, staring at the monster whose instincts were so pure and unbiased that he instantly sensed Izaya’s nature only to immediately dismiss him. Shizuo couldn’t read minds, but he didn’t need to. He knew what Izaya was with just one look, and he rejected him in mere seconds of their first interaction. That had never happened to Izaya before.

“Hey monster,” Izaya called out at the small retreating form that limped on the left side from a sustained injury. “Why’d you destroy my dojo?”

Shizuo stopped, turning to look at him sideways. “The teacher irritated me.”

He answered to “monster” easily, as if people had called him that before.

“Did you beat him up, too?”

“Nah, he ran away.”

“What’s your name?”

“You don’t need my name. Don’t come near me,” Shizuo growled a warning, turning away. “If I see you again, I'll probably beat you up.”

Izaya learned his name later on. He learned a lot more than that, and for the next few years Heiwajima Shizuo was probably the main focus of Izaya’s life, his favorite hobby second only to his job.

The next time they met was similar to the third, and the many after. They were a few years older. As Izaya learned later, both of them were about the same age, and Izaya was turning seventeen come the next month. He was on his way to the town hall to register himself as the area’s next informant, when he saw the familiar locks of brown hair.

Shizuo was lying on the ground face down, beaten, starved and in torn clothes, too exhausted to move a limb. At first, Izaya sat on top of his trembling back, talking and taunting, but then he moved to sit in front of the young man because he wanted to look into Shizuo’s eyes.

Hatred, so much hatred. It was beautiful and unnerving, the purity of Shizuo’s emotions. Most people’s eyes revealed the standard stories of their lives, their hurt, ambition and a desire for approval, but Shizuo’s eyes reflected emotions that were free of any corruption.

“Can’t seem to get your life together, hmm?” Izaya asked.

It was raining, heavy drops bouncing off everywhere. The rainfall was loud in that silent way, engulfing and deafening eardrums, but Shizuo wasn’t going to answer him anyhow. He rarely graced Izaya with conversation, preferring to skip straight to fighting. That day fighting seemed to be out of the question, because Shizuo was lying in one of the puddles, and he looked so terribly broken that the sight stirred a strange feeling in Izaya’s chest that he couldn’t identify.

Looks were deceiving, however. Over the last few years Izaya had learned that _nothing_ could break Shizuo’s spirit. Those eyes burned with hatred that was just as bright as when Shizuo was clean and well-nourished.

“Fuck… _off_ … Izaya.”

“I’ll tell you why nothing seems to go your way. I’m kind like that,” Izaya smiled.

He could fix this boy. He could take him into his household, because Izaya’s family was rich. But that would defeat the purpose, because the reason why Shizuo was so broken right there and then was due to the course of events Izaya had set in motion. He wanted to observe the boy when he was at a low like this, and he instigated crowds into action, encouraging them to go against Shizuo because he was so monstrous. People were terrified of the abnormal; in a world where one was surrounded by inexplicable phenomena and where vampires could tear out a human’s throat in an eyeblink, a human like Shizuo was bound to be despised and loathed by the common folk.

“It’s because of you and it’s because of me,” Izaya slowly explained, reaching out and brushing the dirty brown locks that stuck together. “You mess your own life up, and ever since you met me, I mess your life up, too. Bring those two forces together, and of course, you would end up in a place where you’re almost dead.”

“I fucking _hate_ you,” Shizuo spat, mustering enough strength to breathe out the fire of his emotions. “You’re _crazy_.”

Then, Izaya admitted to having sent people after him. Shizuo didn’t look surprised at the information, and in the next few years he attempted to take Izaya’s life so many times, the informant had long lost count. The beautiful part about the struggle was the fact that he stood no chance against Izaya in a fight that had no rules. Nothing that Shizuo hurled at Izaya reached him because Izaya was too fast, and when he tried to swing fists, he would be met with the point of the blade in Izaya’s hands. A gentle blade, mind you. Izaya would never want to maim the beast — he wanted to see Shizuo wreak havoc with the full power of his body. Small cuts here and there did the trick of calming the monster down, because the sharp edge of an enchanted, unbreakable sword did seem to snap Shizuo out of the haze of his fury, self-preservation kicking in in the face of an object that he couldn’t destroy.

The world that they lived in was a strange one, where magic was an accepted norm and true monsters roamed around the world, instilling fear in common folk. Magic was synonymous with science, with rules and laws that could be observed and manipulated to further people’s goals, and Izaya studied it just like he studied the laws of physics, endlessly fascinated with the world that surrounded him and the way humans continued to try and use it for their needs.

There was a reason why Shizuo was shunned. His supernatural strength reminded people of the monsters that they feared, like vampires that never died and could shapeshift, and Izaya frequently found the man beaten to near death with the aid of destructive magic that Shizuo had no chance of fighting against. These people usually acted out on their own will. Some of the hordes Izaya did stir into action through carefully chosen words, but the majority of people who came after Shizuo did so on their own, seeking out the local monster whenever they had the time and an obedient witch to play along with their preferred pastime.

Izaya would sit down next to him and talk _at_ the defeated monster, because Shizuo was in no shape or form to muster any real answer or find strength in himself to reach out and embed Izaya’s skull into the ground.

“People will always fear the unknown, Shizu-chan. That’s why they hate you so much — you’re a walking proof that uncontrollable, untameable beings exist in the world, and they want to show that they are still ahead of monsters like you. When they leave you bleeding to death like this, they don’t feel bad. They feel proud and accomplished. I know this, because I have seen their minds. Humanity loves being the best, you know?”

Shizuo would only glare in response, and only one thought danced in the defiant eyes, reflecting an unbendable belief that he held: that he, too, was a _human_.

One day, Izaya got lucky. He didn’t seriously believe in luck, because most of the things he owned he had worked hard to acquire, but the day Shizuo’s little brother met Hijiribe Ruri was truly fortunate for an informant like Izaya. He had worked as an informant for four years by then, putting him at twenty-one years old.

An informant’s life wasn’t easy. It began with two years of constant mutations on their bodies, which was the reason why few people decided to become one. Those two years weren’t pleasant for a young child like Izaya, but he knew exactly what he was signing up for, because the ability to tell the truth was something that he greatly desired. Humans fascinated him, and when he learned that there was a way to delve into the deepest corners of a human’s soul, he instantly decided that he wanted an existence like that. Once informants hit seventeen, they were assigned an area to look over because the reason for their licensed existence was their usefulness to society. They went from town to town, and the local government contracted them to solve disputes, the ability to tell the truth from lies being vital in solving civil conflicts.

In addition to the exhaustive nature of the work, informants had to deal with a lot of hostility from the general public. No one liked a mind-reader when they saw one. The red color of their eyes gave them away, and by law, they had no right to hide their occupation. By the laws of magic that was ingrained into them, they were also unable to lie when people asked them questions within a formed civil contract. The commonplace knowledge of those rules was why people were able to trust them in the first place, and most thought of informants as a necessary evil. No one liked them, but everyone agreed they were useful.

On the day Izaya returned to his hometown after a particularly exhaustive month of work, his empty home had a visitor that he had never thought he would see. People in his hometown frequently came to him for advice, but he never expected to see Shizuo sleeping at his doorstep. He stood over the bedraggled man, wondering why the person who hated him the most would be waiting for his return.

Before that day, if someone asked him about the best way to hurt Heiwajima Shizuo, Izaya would have an instant answer: his brother. That deep care for his little brother was one of the strongest emotions Shizuo felt, and if something bad happened to the young man, Shizuo would surely be devastated. Izaya himself never laid a finger on the young man — he simply didn’t play that way. Going after family was low and boring and forcing that kind of anguish on Shizuo wasn’t something Izaya was interested in. He preferred playing with the monster’s sensibilities about his own identity, because it was that much more fun.

Shizuo looked exhausted, indented dark skin under his eyes, his body thinner than normal. A year or so ago he had asked a witch to turn his hair blond so that people knew to stay away from him. That day his hair was greased with dirt, as if the man hadn’t bathed in weeks. It was ironic that the blond hair both deterred and attracted people; in the end Izaya didn’t know if Shizuo actually benefited from it. He did appreciate the new look though, because it reflected Shizuo’s defiance and his lack of fear. It was befitting of him.

When Shizuo woke up, his eyes immediately brimmed with hatred when they fell on Izaya’s smiling face, but to Izaya’s deepest shock, the man proceeded to drop to his knees and bring his forehead to the ground.

“Shizu-chan,” Izaya said, deeply unsettled by the sight in front of him. “I’m not sure what’s gotten into you, but I do not want you bowing to me.”

“Izaya—” Shizuo started, voice shaking and his head fixed down.

“Lift your head and face me properly,” Izaya said, feeling like the world was going crazy. “You of all people never had any qualms looking me in the eyes.”

Shizuo sat up, hands folded on his knees. When their eyes locked, Izaya learned the exact reason why his least favorite human was behaving so outrageously. Heiwajima Kasuka found trouble on his own and was currently awaiting a potential death sentence. The government required an informant’s final word to confirm that their suspicions against the culprit were based in hard facts, and since Izaya’s return was scheduled to this day, the beheading was planned a week from then.

Among the ocean of worries and mental agony, Izaya read the reason why Shizuo had been waiting for him. The man was prepared to do anything for Izaya to lie about Kasuka’s involvement with a wanted vampire, Hijiribe Ruri.

“Shizu-chan,” Izaya shook his head, smiling at the fateful turn of events. “You know I cannot lie under oath.”

“Please, _Izaya_ ,” Shizuo begged, his eyes crazed with despair. “You _hate_ me. You’re obsessed with me. You’ve been making my life hell for years now. This is your chance to finally finish me — you can do anything to me if you save Kasuka. You don’t have to lie, but I’m sure there is a way to—”

“A way to do what, Shizu-chan?” Izaya laughed. “I hate you, and that is why I will do my job the only way I can. I’ll get to see you fall apart when your dearest brother faces the fate that would befall any other citizen that sheltered wanted murderers.”

“Those people tortured her!” Shizuo protested. “Kasuka helped her because she needed help!”

“Are you trying to justify a murderer’s actions, Shizu-chan? Ah, this day brings nothing but surprises.”

“ _Please_ , Izaya,” Shizuo continued to beg, ignoring Izaya’s theatrics. He was so resolved to save Kasuka no matter what, he couldn’t even begin to feel angry.

“Go home, Shizu-chan.”

Izaya slid open the doors to his house and retreated behind them, fully aware of the fact that Shizuo wasn’t going to leave. It filled him with a strange sense of excitement to know that Shizuo was going to sleep by his doorstep like a dog. He didn’t show it because he wanted to enjoy Shizuo’s suffering, but the moment he saw the man’s resolve to do anything, he knew that he was going to help him. How could Izaya not help him, when he helped any other human that came to him seeking advice? Shizuo was special, after all, and he deserved special treatment.

What Shizuo, and the world in general, didn’t know was that Izaya _could_ lie in his line of work. He wasn’t sure if other informants secretly experienced the same mishap in the magic that bound them to the profession, but he didn’t care. He had never lied at his job before, but for Shizuo, he was prepared to cross that line.

On the day of the sentencing, Izaya stood across Heiwajima Kasuka, red eyes locked onto the lifeless brown. There wasn’t much emotion in Heiwajima Shizuo’s younger brother’s mind, which in itself was an oddity. Shizuo was perhaps the most emotional person Izaya had known, yet his brother had to be the complete opposite.

The judge’s voice traveled through the hollow room, loud and grating. “Please analyze this person’s mind and tell us if he had indeed helped Hijiribe Ruri, a vampire of second order, hide from the law’s reach after she had murdered three people.”

As usual, Izaya delved into the mind exposed in front of him, and the truth was clear-cut like a diamond. Kasuka, having full knowledge of what Ruri was, provided her shelter and nurtured her back to health. He convinced her to refrain from chasing her last torturer, and Izaya commended him for that. It didn’t seem like an easy task after he read the information of what the men apparently did to the vampire.

“Heiwajima Kasuka did not possess any knowledge of Hijiribe Ruri being a vampire, and he believed the woman to be human,” Izaya declared, his face void of any emotion. Informants refrained from expressing any emotions when they delivered a verdict, because people were already flustered enough with the fact that someone had read their exposed minds. If they saw Izaya smiling, there would be no end to their indignation. “He also didn’t think that the woman killed anyone. He believes there was a mistake made somewhere.”

Lying was easy. Izaya had lied so many times in his life, he had to wonder if his personal preference to merge the truths and lies was what ultimately exempted him from being bound to absolutely tell the truth each time he was under oath. The oath was no joke, too — it was a powerful spell that only worked on informants because of their mutated bodies, but since the very first time he held his hand to his heart and declared to tell the truth and only truth, he realized that he could tell them _anything_.

The time he lied under oath for Shizuo’s sake was the first time he tested it, and it worked. He knew it would be the _last_ time, too, because lies in his line of work would put the entire profession under question, and that was the last thing he wanted. He enjoyed being an informant.

He decided that the price for that lie would be Shizuo’s life.

Well, that was Izaya’s first thought, but he had never been fond of the idea of taming Shizuo because he loved to see him wild and unrestrained, so he changed the lifelong servitude to a span of ten years, much to Shizuo’s relief. Shizuo would be required to serve and protect him, to accompany him everywhere and obey any order. Izaya had long been interested in hiring a bodyguard because of the hostility he came across during his travels. He was an exceptional swordsman, but Shizuo’s company was definitely going to grant him more freedom in choosing where he traveled. There were monsters in the world that even Izaya’s blade had trouble against, and Shizuo’s raw strength and unnatural healing promised to be perfect in serving as a meatshield.

Hijiribe Ruri never did get caught by the Japanese government, and Shizuo’s second request of Izaya was to find a way for Kasuka to be with Ruri without fear of being persecuted. After a lot of careful planning, Izaya decided to relocate them to Ireland — a land that was much friendlier towards monsters, and Ruri being a vampire wouldn’t be something rare. After some additional thought, he decided that he and Shizuo would move to those green lands as well. Traveling was expensive because of the amount of magic energy required to teleport, but Izaya was a wealthy man.

Most of the world followed a system that was much alike the one used in Japan, so he continued being an informant. He swapped places with another informant that was looking to work in Japan, exchanging provinces, and he and Shizuo relocated to the county of Kerry, with Ruri and Kasuka moving to live in a small house near Cork. Cork was a short distance away from Kerry, but Shizuo didn’t want to live near Kasuka because in his little brother’s presence, he pretended to be best friends with Izaya. He didn’t want Kasuka to feel bad. He lied to him that Izaya had done them a favor because of their “friendship”, and he made Izaya swear that he would never tell Kasuka about Shizuo’s debt to him.

Everything went smoothly, and now Izaya had what he didn’t realize he wanted before: Shizuo was constantly by his side. He didn’t have to go looking for him anymore. Shizuo was always around, always so fun to tease and play with, and days passed with them accommodating to each other and to the new lands. Two months later Shizuo lost control of his emotions. He debilitated him to the point of paralysis, but past the initial panic and fear, Izaya saw the advantages of such a course of events. It laid out the groundwork for him to bind Shizuo to himself, and it filled him with sadistic joy to have such power over the monster.

The monster wasn’t _yet_ broken in spirit, but perhaps one day, Izaya would succeed in finishing him off.

 

!

 

Now, a little more than a year later, Shizuo was lying next to him, sound asleep and with that vulnerable look on his face. Lightly, Izaya traced his thumb along the line of Shizuo’s left eyebrow, admiring the handsome features of his own monster. He didn’t know why Shizuo was warming up to him so much. Curiosity was eating away at him, and when Shizuo woke up, stretching on top of him and still disoriented, Izaya did something he’d almost never done ever since they tied themselves together with magic.

Instead of having fun and _guessing_ Shizuo’s emotions, Izaya demanded a clear answer.

“I want to read your mind, Shizu-chan,” he murmured into Shizuo’s ear, and the man flinched. He sat up, untangling his limbs from Izaya’s. There was confusion swimming in his brown eyes, and he made sure not to look Izaya in the eyes, staring somewhere around his collarbone.

“Right now?” he asked, voice low and dry from his sleep. “Why?”

“No reason in particular,” Izaya shrugged, extending a hand out. Shizuo grabbed it with his own, and Izaya pulled himself up to sit. They were sitting close to each other, Shizuo’s shirt bunched and revealing the tone muscles of his stomach. Izaya leaned onto him, his head over his shoulder. Incapable of feeling sexual arousal himself, he wondered if Shizuo was just as immune to it. Was the reason he desired physical proximity last night similar to the way a baby longed to be held by its mother? It was an important distinction, and Izaya wanted to know the answer.

Shizuo tensed against his weight, but didn’t mind. His hand jerked a little before he put it over Izaya’s shoulder. “Will you go over what happened last night again?” he asked, sounding resigned.

“No,” was all Izaya said to that. He lifted his head from the warm shoulder, cocking it a little to the side. He wore a blissful smile over his lips that always unsettled the monster, but that morning Shizuo seemed too relaxed to be alarmed by it. He nodded slightly, removing his arm. Without further ado, he looked into Izaya’s eyes, the stream of honesty only disturbed by the slow sleepy blinks he was doing.

The thing with mind-reading sessions, the person whose mind was exposed was aware of what informants dug for. Memories and thoughts would be forced to the surface of their consciousness, and the content would flash before their minds. Izaya knew that Shizuo would know what he was looking for, but that didn’t deter him in the least bit. If anything, it encouraged him.

Though buried deep underneath the mountain of complex feelings Shizuo had for Izaya, there was no doubt that his longing for physical proximity had very strong sexual elements in its nature. There were hidden desires in the monster’s mind that he had been quite adamantly suppressing. With a short chuckle, Izaya blinked a couple times, breaking the session, and stared at Shizuo’s face as a whole. When he read minds, it was hard for him to focus on the faces, because his own mind would be flooded by the river of information.

Shizuo looked absolutely horrified.

He had never been aware of these emotions, or he never dwelled on them if he suspected their existence. His breathing stilled, and after a whole minute, Izaya lightly tapped him on the shoulder.

“Don’t worry, Shizu-chan,” he sang amiably. “No matter how perverted you get, I will always accept you. You’re my own little animal, after all.”

“I-Izaya, there m-must be—”

“A mistake?” he finished Shizuo’s broken sentence for him. “Impossible, and you know it. It’s okay, really. Unfortunately, I can’t really return these feelings of yours.”

Shizuo swallowed, cheeks drained of all color. “I would never do anything like—”

“Like you didn’t just decide to sleep next to me last night?”

“I misunderstood you! Please, Izaya, you _have_ to believe me. I wouldn’t,” he declared firmly, resolve burning in his eyes. “You have _nothing_ to worry about.”

“Of course, I don’t. I have full control over your actions, remember?” Izaya smiled. He brought his hand up to caress Shizuo’s cheek, and with enormous effort, Shizuo didn’t flinch away from the touch. Slowly, he was coming to terms with his inner desires. He looked down in deep shame, disbelief still shining blindingly in the shocked eyes.

Whether this turn of events was a victory, Izaya still didn’t know. Unfortunately, he couldn’t say that Shizuo had come around to actually like him — despite the physical attraction, Shizuo still hated him, still loathed his existence. The same hatred that he saw in Shizuo’s eyes when they first met was very much alive in the brown eyes, and the fact that there was now a sexual element there somewhere both excited and disturbed Izaya. It was a little disgusting, and with a wistful sigh, he thought that he had stained the monster. Shizuo always used to be so pure, but now he desired the same thing that other humans did.

He dug his fingertips into Shizuo’s jawline, lifting his face to look into his eyes again. Shizuo didn’t have the heart to resist, not after he was exposed already, and Izaya read more of the desires Shizuo had for him. His fixation on Izaya’s thin lips, the frailty of his hipbones, the dimples on his lower back. _Gross_ , Izaya thought as he shuffled through the images that polluted Shizuo’s mind. A small part of him did feel flattered — ever since he lost the ability to walk, he had stopped flirting with people as much, and women rarely graced him with that kind of attention.

“S-Stop,” Shizuo begged, wincing under Izaya’s grip. “Let me bury it, Izaya. Don’t make me aware of it.”

“You’re disgusting, Shizu-chan,” Izaya murmured as he dropped his fingers from the jaw. Now free, Shizuo hurried out of the bed, stumbling towards the drawers where Izaya’s garments were. He refused to comment any further on what was brought to light, perhaps still processing the undeniable facts that Izaya had shown to him.

What was the basis for Shizuo’s attraction to him, Izaya couldn’t really tell. He would like to suspect the desire for power and control, maybe the urge to humiliate the person he hated the most, but Shizuo didn’t have a single stray thought that would point to that. He didn’t want to take Izaya forcibly. The attraction flared the strongest when he experienced positive emotions towards Izaya, like the broken fragments of trust that he occasionally held for him.

Foolish monster, desperate to trust anyone, even someone like Izaya. Captured animals did look up to their owners, no matter how abused. Izaya looked outside the window, deep in thought — it wasn’t the first time he regretted having tamed Shizuo, but it was the first time he was considering setting him free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure if anyone even likes this, so any comments would be appreciated!


	8. Chapter 8

The ground squished under Shizuo’s feet as he trudged through the mud to get to Swallow. She was rather whimsical on that day, running out into the big field in front of Lorest’s mansion and forcing them to come out and get her. It was still early in the morning, and the soft thump of her buoyant gallop livened the serene silence that laid over the estate like a thick curtain. The frosty air was chilly, the cold dew of the grass brushing the skin on his ankles that peeked above the boots, but in only three hours or so Shizuo knew the temperature would grow to become unbearably hot.

Izaya was fixed comfortably on his back, and for the first time ever Shizuo realized how intimate they had been for the last year or so. He had never thought twice about the care he had done for the man, but in the light of recent discoveries, everything seemed to draw Shizuo’s nerves into a tightened string. He’d become uncomfortably aware of how intimate their everyday activities were — he bathed Izaya, carried him on his back, undressed him and took him to bed… he had to see Izaya naked or in bed garments _way_ too often. Past the initial awkwardness about a year ago, he used to do those things without an eye blink, but now every touch, every slight brush seemed to alarm him. He had never been aware of this disease of his mind, but now that Izaya had awakened it, he was deathly scared of touching him the wrong way, or even worse, getting aroused by something that used to be so normal.

Denial was a powerful thing, because the first thing Shizuo wanted to do was blame Izaya for it. He wanted to curse him for bringing it up in his consciousness; he even wondered if it was possible to plant ideas in people’s heads like that. He tried to banish any manner of inappropriate thought, but with Izaya’s arms locked around his neck, all he could think about was just that. How was he supposed to go on, now that he knew that he _wanted_ something like that?

When he neared Swallow, she came to an abrupt stop, kicking up an explosion of dirt underneath her hooves. She was in a good mood, Shizuo noted. He turned his back and let Izaya grab onto the saddle, then quickly turned around to help the man up. He felt bad about the amount of exertion Izaya’s arms had to go through. His beautiful hands looked rougher now, hardened around the edges because of the amount of pulling up he had to do. Despite being an expert swordsman, his hands had always looked gentle before, almost aristocratic in their frailty. They still looked good now, but the hardened skin was yet another reminder of what Shizuo had inflicted on the smaller man.

He slid his gaze askance, now sharply aware of how much he admired Izaya’s general build.

Izaya gave him a small smile when Shizuo took his place behind him. Shizuo expected him to go ruthless on him, considering the nightmare of the conversation that took place that morning, but Izaya had been relatively tame in his attacks. He only made a few jokes about it in the bathhouse, where Shizuo either grimly ignored them or snarled something back in a weak voice.

“It’ll be a fairly long ride,” Izaya said, leaning back against him. His scent filled Shizuo’s nostrils, a mix of citrus and the smell of freshly cut grass. They had both bathed about an hour ago, but Shizuo knew he didn’t smell nearly as good as Izaya seemed to. “The Gaera family lives to the West, and there will be mountainous paths on the road. They say monsters fill those twisted routes, so be on your guard, Shizu-chan.”

Shizuo grunted in acknowledgment. In all the time of their travels, even in the lands where monsters enjoyed a particular degree of freedom, he had never encountered a creature that was stronger than him. That fact was frequently brought up by Izaya himself as a way to demonize him further, but Shizuo didn’t really care about it — he liked the fact that he didn’t have to fear anything. Still, he had someone to protect now, so he usually kept an ear to the ground during their travels. Izaya’s black-and-red sword was tied to the saddle, but it had been a year since he last used it, because sparring without the power of movement wasn’t really possible. It wasn’t even about footwork — swords attacks carried a lot of their power from the swing of hips and the general motion of the body, something that even Shizuo knew, despite being clueless about sword fighting.

Confounded by the amount of guilt he felt, Shizuo gripped onto the reins tighter, until his knuckles paled. He was such a failure all around. Not only did he cripple the one man who saved Kasuka from certain death, he also harbored inappropriate feelings towards him. He sensed that Izaya didn’t particularly mind it because he was twisted in the head, but _Shizuo_ himself did. It was fucked up, to desire the man he hated, whom he was tied to by an enormous debt, whom he so frequently disagreed with on just about everything in life.

It didn’t help that Izaya changed nothing about their usual routine — his head rested comfortably against Shizuo’s shoulder, as if he wasn’t at all disturbed about the new ways he affected Shizuo.

“Do you think you could sit up straight?” Shizuo asked, moving his head to the side. Izaya’s hair kept tickling his cheek, and that small ear was way too close to Shizuo’s lips. If it was a woman, Shizuo would have blushed incessantly, but it was Izaya, so all he felt was a flush of anger and a desire to run his tongue over the stupid ear, even though he had never done anything of the sort before.

Dangerous thoughts, luckily interrupted by Izaya’s insufferable personality.

“Why would I?” the man asked lazily. “I trust you to keep it in your pants.”

Swallow lifted her head higher, neighing a laugh, and Shizuo suppressed the urge to draw her reins. She was such a bitch sometimes, working in tandem with Izaya. With a roll of his eyes, he decided to focus on his anger instead of his guilt. Izaya was an asshole, and Shizuo needed to stop caring so much about him. In his anger, he caught Izaya’s ear between his teeth, giving it a small bite, and Izaya yelped, straightening out his back. The commotion on the saddle had Swallow slow her trot, but things didn’t escalate. With a sigh, Izaya remained upright, holding onto the horn of the saddle.

“Playing dirty, Shizu-chan,” he smiled, turning his face in profile. “I’ll sit straighter for a bit, but eventually I’ll fall asleep, you know.”

“Just try to keep contact to a minimum,” Shizuo muttered as he focused his gaze on the horizon. The path in front of them was beautiful, luscious green trees framing the road, and maybe it wouldn’t get so hot later in the day — they were headed for the mountains after all.

Too busy dealing with his newfound attraction, Shizuo didn’t pay much attention as to why they were going to visit the House of Gaera that day. Aira was missing from the estate when they woke up, the servant staff unaware of her whereabouts, and Izaya decided it was time to pay the young lord a visit. Apparently, the eldest son of the house was one of the men Izaya had seen in Padraig’s memories. Shizuo wasn’t sure how Izaya planned to unravel the town’s twisted activities when he was ordered to stop all inquiries, but he wasn’t very worried.

Worst case scenario, Izaya would lose his license, and therefore his job, and that seemed like a good thing to Shizuo.

 

!

 

They were halfway to their destination when they encountered a disturbance on the road.

Izaya never did get to sleep, the journey through the mountainous passage being a little too rocky for comfortable slumber. Swallow was in a particularly exuberant mood, so her trot was full of bouncing energy as she charged the windy trail that led higher and higher. Izaya could only grip tighter onto the saddle, as he laid back against Shizuo’s warm chest. He only lasted about half an hour before he nestled himself against Shizuo again, and the angry huffs by his ear amused him. He knew he was being cruel by rubbing Shizuo’s exposed attraction in his face, but he had never been one for sympathy, especially when it came to this particular blond monster.

The disturbance to their journey came in the shape of a young lad that stood by the rocky trail, his foot propped against the big boulder to the left of the path. He couldn’t be older than fifteen. He waved at them enthusiastically as they neared him, and before Shizuo even drew the reins, Swallow came to a stop. Her curiosity would be their downfall, or so Izaya thought as he lowered his gaze on the lonely traveler in front of them.

“Thank Gods!” the boy exclaimed as he looked up at them with relief. “I thought we were done for! My father, he—”

“We’ve no interest in helping you,” Izaya cut him off as he straightened his back. “We have a long journey in front of us.”

“But my dad, he got hit by a boulder! Our carriage drove off the path, and your servant looks strong enough—”

“I’m not a fucking servant,” Shizuo spluttered, his patience thinned by the recent events. He had a cute accent in English, especially when he was flustered.

“Oh dear, I apologize,” the boy took a step back, wary of Shizuo’s murderous aura.

Unfortunately, Swallow refused to move forward unless both of them helped the boy. Izaya sensed that much immediately, from the way her posture betrayed no intention of even taking a single step forward.

“Where’s this carriage that you speak of?” Izaya asked, masking his annoyance because it would only further encourage Swallow’s gimmicks if she knew how much it irritated him.

The boy waved towards the slope of the mountain to their left, and Izaya fell pensive, pondering the logistics. Shizuo released the reins for a second, using his free hand to scratch his nose. He always delegated decisions to Izaya unless he had something to say.

“I’m not seeing the tracks of the carriage that you claim has strayed off the road,” Izaya said, hanging off the horse a little to analyze the ground under. By habit, Shizuo gently supported his torso with his arms so he wouldn’t accidentally slip off.

“Oh, it went off a little further up the path,” the boy gestured upwards.

 _So fishy_ , Izaya inwardly frowned. The kid was obviously trying to sell a story, and even though he sometimes looked straight into Izaya’s eyes, Izaya couldn’t capture enough to know what was on the boy’s mind. That happened sometimes when people were particularly absent-minded or not running with a thread of any given thought in their mind.

Despite the possible dangers, Izaya gestured Shizuo to get down. “Go help the kid,” he ordered, and Shizuo was forced to get off the horse. Without Shizuo’s back to support him, Izaya steadied himself in the saddle, using the strength of his arms to make sure he didn’t fall off. Shizuo quickly adjusted the straps of the saddle to fasten across Izaya’s legs for additional support.

He gave him a quick glance before he turned to follow the kid. He was obviously worried for Izaya’s safety, reluctant to leave him behind. Himself, Izaya wasn’t worried at all. Even if the kid was luring Shizuo out against a group of bandits, there was no way they could overpower Shizuo.

“Wait,” Izaya said before Shizuo turned to leave. “Hand me my sword.”

His favorite blade that was all black except for thick threads of red on the handle landed in his hand, and he felt safer. He could fend off a number of attackers if he wielded a sword off a horse’s back.

They descended down a stray path that led into an area that wasn’t really visible from Izaya’s location due to the way the cliff was shaped. He briefly considered following the two of them, fairly confident that Swallow could wade through the uneven rocks, but he was probably being paranoid. He fixed his gaze on the path in front of him instead, admiring the scenery of the mountain range. Soon the sounds of footsteps and branches creaking stopped as Shizuo and the kid walked far enough away, and only the occasional distant cry of a hawk would disturb the silence around him. Gusts of wind whistled through the cracks in the cliffs, and without Shizuo’s warmth behind him, Izaya started to get chilly.

He clutched onto his sword with one hand and patted Swallow’s neck with another.

“You really want us to get in trouble, don’t you?” he said softly as he leaned forward. Swallow quietly nickered, but stayed still. She was grazing on the sparse grass that grew between the rocks.

Around thirty minutes later Izaya started feeling uneasy. Whatever boulder it was, whatever injury the kid’s father might have, by now Shizuo should have taken care of it by either lifting the rock or bringing the wounded man to where Izaya was. In general, he realized, Shizuo tended to come back to him as soon as possible no matter the circumstances. The fact that he had been away for half an hour spelled trouble. He would definitely hear Shizuo’s roars if there was an attack. If it wasn’t a surprise attack, then what could it be?

Izaya grabbed ahold of the reins, signaling Swallow to move forward to gain some altitude along the path to get a better view of the side trail.

Swallow didn’t move, however, and Izaya drew her reins tighter, irritated by her astounding lack of cooperation that day. He couldn’t move his legs to dig his heels into her sides. She backed up and threw her front legs up with a loud neigh, and the saddle slipped from under him. The world spinning before his eyes, he tumbled off the horse, the straps of leather that were supposed to keep his legs tied to the saddle breaking free. He landed hard on the ground, gravel and small stones grating the skin on his palms. His sword, still sheathed, cascaded down towards the trail where the kid took Shizuo.

Overwhelmed by the initial shock, he turned to Swallow to give her a piece of his mind, but the horse disappeared. He didn’t even see her transform — the black horse just wasn’t there anymore when he turned to look at her. Looking around himself, Izaya took a deep breath. There were no dangers around — he breathed evenly to try and still his racing heartbeat, willing his mind to calm down.

He didn’t know why he got so scared. He simply fell off a horse. The mountains were still coated by the translucent mist, drowning in eerie silence, and there was not a single soul around him. No animals, no people. Bitterly, he realized that he had grown overly reliant on Shizuo. Now that the beast was gone, he felt vulnerable, panicking from something ridiculously small like the saddle’s malfunction.

The shiny black of his sword’s scabbard glinted in the dirt of the side trail, and he began crawling towards it, further destroying the torn-up skin on his palms as he pulled himself forward by grabbing onto grass roots and stones that were lodged deep into the ground.

He _needed_ his sword.

His mind was filled with deep disdain for the way he grew so dependent on the monster, and if he could just get to his sword, he would feel that much better.

A few levels down the trail, he wondered if there was an optical illusion or if he hit his head really hard, because it seemed that by now he should have crawled long enough to reach the sword. But its position remained at a fixed distance from him, almost taunting him with how far away it was. He kept pulling his body forward, his hands bleeding and the muscles of his arms crying out from exertion, but he was determined to prove it to himself that he was fine on his own.

He was just tired, trying to come up with excuses to give up and wait for Shizuo to come back.

Just a little more, and the sword would rest in his palm…

“ _IZAYA!_ ”

Izaya blinked.

His vision spiraled, the familiar bark of Shizuo’s voice cutting through his head, and it was then that he realized that he was hanging off the precipice of a cliff, unfeeling legs dangling in the open. His arm was stretched out, his wrist threatening to snap out of joint from the weight exerted on it, and he looked up to find Shizuo looking down on him. Shizuo’s hand was clasped tightly around his wrist, the only thing holding him up. Below, as Izaya quickly found out when he looked down, was an array of sharp rocks about ten meters down from where they were, and his breath caught in his throat when he realized that he had, in essence, been crawling off to his certain death this entire time.

In one big pull, Shizuo swept him up, holding him up to his chest. “What the _fuck_ , Izaya?” he said as he quickly backed off from the edge of the precipice. “I was yelling at you from way the fuck over there! Why were you trying to get off the cliff?! Were you _trying_ to kill yourself?”

Taking steady breaths, Izaya held onto Shizuo, his trembling hands collecting a fistful of Shizuo’s shirt and staining the white cotton with bright red. “Foglet,” he finally stammered, the realization dawning on him. He was mind-tricked by creatures that could infect a brain with illusions if one was to breathe the fog for long enough. The idea never struck him as a possibility because mountain foglets were rare; they usually lived in swamps and marshlands.

“Foglet?” Shizuo repeated, as he briskly walked back to Swallow. “Never heard of it.”

 _This is bad_ , Izaya thought as his chin rested on Shizuo’s shoulder. He felt so much calmer then, not just because Shizuo was in the area and had saved him from inevitable death. No, he felt safer because he was locked in Shizuo’s arms. _Fuck_ , he cussed in his mind as he gripped onto Shizuo’s shirt. He couldn’t let Shizuo know that he was wavering.

“Foglets are creatures that can influence your mind if you inhale their fog for long enough,” he duly explained, restoring his voice to its normal rhythm.

Shizuo squatted and picked up Izaya’s sword that was abandoned in the grass, in a completely different location from where Izaya thought he had seen it.

“How’d they get you off Swallow? Could you not cut them?”

Izaya looked up at the horse, and, of course, she was there, standing where they originally stopped, like nothing had ever happened. She blinked at him, no particular emotion on her long face. The entire episode of her throwing him off was probably his imagination.

“I probably undid the belts myself and dove down head first,” Izaya said, analyzing his torn hands. “They can cause hallucinations; they use them to manipulate you into suicide because they don’t want to do the hard work of killing you. They’d rather feast on your fresh corpse once you finish the work for them. Smart lot, aren’t they?”

“Geez,” was all Shizuo said to that. He seated Izaya on the saddle, careful as always, and looked around. “Well, where the fuck are they? I’ll fucking kill them!”

“So bloodthirsty,” Izaya teased tiredly as he flipped his palms upside down, afraid of staining the saddle or to rub blood on Swallow. Not to mention the possibility of infection. “Foglets don’t really appear in front of you. See the fog around you? They use it to hide themselves. If you’re wondering what they look like, they’re pretty similar to ghouls and alghouls. In other words, not a pretty sight.”

“Your hands are all messed up now,” Shizuo frowned, ignoring Izaya’s educational speech. “Fuck, I can never leave you alone for too long.”

“What took you so long?” Izaya asked. He was endlessly displeased by how pathetic he was, and now even Shizuo was acknowledging it. _It’s not my fault,_ he thought angrily. _Shizuo_ took his legs. Shizuo was responsible for him.

Shizuo didn’t understand the source of Izaya’s anger. “The kid took me so fucking far! I almost hit him from how angry I got when he failed to answer my questions. He disappeared before I could punch him.” He paused his recollection, murder dissipating from his eyes when he looked at Izaya’s hands again. “Let me get some cloth for your hands,” he said as he reached for the medicine bag they kept tied to the back of the saddle.

Izaya said nothing. The pain was stinging, but the true injury was inflicted on his pride. Not only was he tricked by an invisible creature, his _mind_ got taken over by its magic. He looked around, taking in the view of the misty fog that surrounded them. Silver shimmers ran through the air, as if hinting that a foglet could be nearby. If he looked hard enough he could see a shape glittering menacingly in the sunlight, but he wasn’t sure if it was brain tricks all over again. The fog didn’t seem malicious before, but now all Izaya felt was nausea when he thought about hallucinations infecting him again.

Why was he the one susceptible to it? Why was Shizuo so unaffected? Why didn’t _Shizuo_ wander off to his certain death?

His mind was the only thing he had left. If the hidden seams that tied his brain together were to fray… Izaya would sooner kill himself before that happened. He brought the back of his hand to his lips, willing the nausea to go away. Shizuo looked up at him with concern, recognizing the rarity of such body language from someone like Izaya.

Seated on the horse and with Shizuo standing on the ground was the only time Izaya had the height advantage over the other. He looked down, a strange sense of melancholy washing over him. The concern in Shizuo’s stormy eyes was too real.

He let out an inaudible sigh as he extended his hand out.

“Is it really you, Shizu-chan?”

 _or am I seeing things again_ , was his silent question, but he couldn’t bring himself to say that in front of another person.

His hand was open, frozen mid-air, and Shizuo stared at it, an intense frown between his eyebrows. Before Izaya dropped it, Shizuo jerked forward, his cheek landing inside Izaya’s hand. Blood painted his face as Izaya cupped his cheek, feeling reassured that it really was his monster. Shizuo’s eyes fixed down, the moment intimate enough that he would be hushed by it, but maybe it was because Izaya was still trembling a little that he didn’t seem to mind the affection. He allowed Izaya's hand to linger a little longer before Izaya pulled away with a soft snort.

“I’m angry, Shizu-chan,” he said when Shizuo moved to pour water over his hands, washing off the dirt and blood in soft strokes. It hurt like nothing else had in a long time, slices of skin hanging off of it, but Izaya didn’t even flinch. He had given away enough of himself on that day, and he was prepared to let nothing else slip past him.

“It’s okay, really. I’m here now,” Shizuo mumbled, his cheeks still flushed. “You know whose fault this is?” he asked as he strapped a medical cloth across Izaya’s hands; the soothing ointment on the inside would speed the healing process.

Izaya looked at him in question.

“Swallow’s!” Shizuo said, indignation ringing in his voice. “She fucking wanted us to get tricked.”

“Yeah,” Izaya said. He looked at the black mane in front of him and reached out to give her a small pet. “Well, that is the price of her traveling with us.”

“We should get a normal fucking horse,” Shizuo grumbled as he shoved his foot into the stirrup pad and jumped up to sit behind him. Warmth engulfed him when Shizuo’s arms wrapped around his frame, and Izaya grew more dismal.

He could either fight it or accept it, but in the end, he knew he had to accept it. It didn’t really matter, anyway. Shizuo belonged to him for eight years and nine months. For eight years and nine months more he was Izaya’s and Izaya’s only, and that meant that he could use the monster however he pleased. Whether Shizuo served as his personal source of heat or whether he was Izaya's medicine for panic attacks and loneliness...

Everything was fair game.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Foglets as in from the Witcher game franchise, except with added mind-game trickery. In the game, they simply use the fog to go invisible, but I wanted Izaya to freak out a little I guess...
> 
> Thank you all who commented on the last chapter! I was a little embarrassed posting this random story, but since a handful of people like it, I'm happy to share. ^_^;;
> 
> Also, the action that was planned to happen this chapter moved to the next, oops.. the side-road mini-digression lasted a little too long.


	9. Chapter 9

They reached the Gaera estate at night. Tall trees were quietly rustling around them, as if hushed by the quiet of the evening. The rest of their journey was undisturbed by monsters or other travelers. In the periphery of his vision, Shizuo would sometimes spot an aberrant creature or two, but they left them alone, sensing either Shizuo’s unnatural strength or discouraged by the presence of a materialized puca.

Overhead was a black starless sky, and the air had turned even cooler. Swallow’s descent from the mountainous passage over the rocky hillsides was fast and bumpy, and they hadn’t had a chance to rest yet. They were both tired, his own exhaustion wearing down even his unnatural body and Izaya’s was evident from the way he slumped against Shizuo’s chest. Seeing the torn skin on Izaya’s hands angered Shizuo — he draped an arm across Izaya’s torso, his palm holding onto the frail ribcage in order to support the smaller man and free him of having to hold onto the saddle. Izaya never asked for it, but he didn’t seem to mind. Their bodies pressed close together, perhaps in a silent agreement to preserve as much heat as possible.

The delicacy underneath his overly strong hand became sharply apparent to him. Izaya’s body was so small and fine, and Shizuo wanted to trace his ribcage, to let his touch wander across the shape of the bony frame, but he suppressed the urge to splay his fingers. He focused on supporting Izaya like he would support a child or a woman, with no perversion to his hold.

His tired thoughts about his messed-up attraction were what filled his mind when they reached the large mansion that could almost pass for a small-sized castle.

There was a strange ceremony in progress when they neared the towering gates of the mansion. A black mist was rising into the heavy clouds that concealed the stars and the moon, coming from somewhere inside the gardens. It was thick and pitch black even against the black sky, meaning that whatever burned was still burning. Through the dark, he could catch a glimpse of a formation of people lined up around something in a large circle.

They seemed to be celebrating — even from a few miles away Shizuo could hear the reedy laughter and the songs of a merry flute. The distant fire and the dancing torches in people’s hands were a pleasant break from the darkness.

“Great timing,” said Izaya, and Shizuo wasn’t sure if it was meant as sarcasm or not.

“What’s going on there?”

“A funeral wake.”

Ah, right. The Irish liked to send off their dead with a jubilant party, something that was still foreign to Shizuo. He couldn’t imagine laughing so loud if Kasuka were to pass away.

The men who were guarding the gates stepped in front of Swallow once they got close enough.

“Here for the wake?” the armored man asked, taking a heavy step forward. The clank of his chainmail accompanied his every movement, and Shizuo imagined having to fight the heavily protected men. They were technically in foreign territory, in a place so remote that such thoughts were him being rightfully careful. Though they wielded spears — his least favorite weapon to go against — Shizuo didn’t think there would be any issue, as long as he didn’t have to fight twenty at a time. And even then…

“Here to see Ardan Gaera,” Izaya said, straightening in his seat. His voice was tired, stripped of the usual melody it carried, and something told Shizuo it wasn’t just exhaustion that made his voice ring so hollow. He seemed to have been greatly displeased by the incident with the foglets, and Shizuo wanted to talk about it later on. Though knowing Izaya, he would forever bury the subject if it displeased him in any way.

“Ah, you’re the informant. My apologies. The young lord is expecting youse.”

For a fraction of a second, Izaya’s upper body tensed at the words uttered by the guard. Shizuo felt the change because they were so close together, and he tapped Swallow’s flank with his heels, signalling her to move forward to enter through the heavy gates that slowly clanged open. Izaya must have disliked the idea of being expected.

They were shown the way to the stables, one of the guards walking in front of them. At the stables, Shizuo carefully swept Izaya off the saddle, but there was a wheelchair prepared at the entrance so he seated him there.

“The young lord does his research well,” Izaya said, tone void of any enthusiasm. He murmured the words quietly, so only Shizuo could hear him.

Shizuo pushed the wheelchair forward, its wheels scuffing against the cobblestone path, and when they moved forward enough to get a full view of the rich gardens, his eyes skittered to the wake again. The sounds of mirth and joy were a little unsettling; he was still trying to process the fact that they had all lost someone significant in their lives. Rationally, he recognized it made sense to celebrate someone’s life rather than mourn their passing, but he wasn’t sure he could bring himself to focus on the good if someone dear to him was to die. He remembered the hollow shell of a human being he had become in the weeks that he spent thinking that Kasuka was doomed to be sentenced to death. He had forgotten to eat and drink, and when Izaya found him at his doorstep, the hatred that he felt for the informant was what brought him back to life. The first real emotion he had felt in almost a month.

“The Lord would ask you to join the wake, but he knows the guests are tired,” the other guard neared them and reported. “We will show you the way to the guest wing.”

“How long will the wake last? Is it possible to talk to Lord Ardan tonight?” Izaya asked.

“It’s nearing midnight, and the crowd is still going strong, sir. The Lord said it was best to postpone communication until morning.”

They were escorted to their guestrooms, but Shizuo knew he would sleep on the floor beside Izaya’s bed as always. Once they entered the bigger chambers (one of the rooms was significantly smaller in size as they assumed Shizuo was a servant), he seated Izaya on the giant bed and looked up, kneeling from the floor, awaiting further instructions.

“We rest,” Izaya said, a small sigh of exhaustion slipping past his composure, his shoulders drooping. “Perhaps it’s for the best that we arrived so late. The journey was long, and I’d prefer to feel fresh for our chat with the young lord. Ardan seems to have expected me, which means that he’s definitely prepared for something.”

“We should eat and bathe then,” Shizuo offered carefully, slipping off Izaya’s dirtied boots. His entire garments were covered with mud, since he had crawled so far in Shizuo’s absence. A strange sensation prickled at Shizuo’s heart when he noticed the chafed spots on Izaya’s sleeves. Rocks tore through his shirt sleeves and probably scraped the skin on his arms too.

“Yeah,” Izaya nodded. “Let’s do so.”

Soon Shizuo found himself more on guard than he had been in a long time. Eyes were watching them wherever they went. The servant staff lurked in the shadows of the poor-lit castle, in the corners of the large rooms, down the long corridors. It took him way too long to realize that the entire servant staff was vampiric in origin. Their skin flaky gray, most of them were what Izaya called third-rate vampires, the lowest order. Ruri was a vampire of second order, which meant that she couldn’t conceal her fangs or shapeshift. Her skin was still porcelain white though, alike Padraig’s. The lowest vampires were more monstrous in appearance, with shorter builds and hunched backs, their nails long and teeth blackened, their skin the color of grey ashes.

They were not a pretty sight, but it wasn’t their appearance that unsettled Shizuo. They circled around the edges of the rooms they passed, as if they kept surveillance on them. Being watched always crept him out, and he was quickly losing his temper.

Izaya sensed his discomfort and caught him by the hand when Shizuo seated him at the small dinner table. Shizuo shot him a questioning look, and Izaya traced his hand up, grabbing him by the collar to pull him in.

 _He wants to whisper_ , Shizuo realized, as he gave him his ear. Something knotted in the lower part of his stomach as he felt Izaya’s breath tickle his ear.

“I understand why you’d feel uneasy, but we are guests here. Nothing’s going to happen to us, Shizu-chan. At least not yet.”

Strangely, Izaya’s calming voice seemed to ease his worries. They were done with their dinner, which brought about the time that Shizuo dreaded. They had taken a bath already that morning, but they had to take another one after the long journey.

He moved stiffly, rehearsing the same old routine as before, except now his mind was plagued by all the intrusive thoughts. He had always thought himself one for women — his eyes often lingered for a split second on the high rise of a woman’s chest when they breathed, or the delicate curve of their necks when they turned their heads. But there was room for other thoughts, it seemed, because his eyes did notice Izaya’s lissome body, and they did follow the brittle shape of the man’s collarbone. Izaya really was too pretty for a man. It was almost as if he carved from ivory with grace and delicacy in mind, and the sculptor didn’t care about any muscle definition or fleshing out the body in a way that it would be obviously masculine.

Still, Izaya was a man. Shizuo’s eyes couldn’t resist taking in the sight of his entire naked body, though he tried hard to look away. He lifted him off the bench, trying to think of ghouls in order to avoid being enticed by the physical proximity. He wasn’t allowed to feel this way, for far too many reasons. Though homosexuality wasn’t unheard of in Japan where only men were allowed to perform in theaters and where it was a fairly common practice to take a young boy in for apprenticeship with other liaisons in mind, there was still a clear divide in people’s minds. Only men who hadn’t come of age were considered eligible to be partners of that nature, and those relationships were far from fair and equal. For grown men, it was never considered normal to be involved between each other.

Both he and Izaya never had their coming of age ceremonies, but they were past twenty now, and Shizuo wondered what that meant for him. Was he abnormal in more way than one? What would Kasuka think of him, or their parents? How could he feel this way towards Izaya, out of all men on Earth?

“You look quite red, Shizu-chan,” Izaya said as Shizuo lowered him in the waters. “What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing,” Shizuo said quickly.

“Things have gotten weird, hmm?”

“Yeah,” Shizuo admitted. He sat by the edge of the tub, deciding that he would take a bath after he put Izaya to bed. The dim candlelight wasn’t enough to illuminate everything, but he could see enough. He knew that if he started looking, he would never go back to normal. In a way he was still grasping to go back to the way things were _before_ he was made aware of the hidden urges his mind had tried hard to shut out.

“That’s my bad,” Izaya drawled. He gestured him to begin washing him, and Shizuo rolled up the cuffs of his shirt. He almost forgot about Izaya’s wounds — his hands were so torn up, there was no way he would lower them in soap-bubbled water for longer than necessary.

“People think it’s wrong,” Shizuo said quietly as he slid a piece of cloth down Izaya’s back. “Wrong to, you know, feel this way towards another man.” Gently, he pushed off Izaya’s shoulder with one palm, as his other hand washed his back.

He was fooling himself. It was already too late — his fingers held the cloth, but he was still _touching_ Izaya. He was still following the delicate slope of his back with his fingers and his eyes, greedily relishing in the sight because he rationalized it as something that he had to do if he were to wash it.

“It isn’t,” Izaya said airily, as if he had thought a lot about it. “Humans have engaged in homosexual acts since the ancient time. It simply fights against the notion of a traditional family with a mother and a father. That notion is vital for the survival of the human race, so naturally, there are some barriers in human minds about it. In the west, these barriers rooted themselves deep in religion.”

“So is it wrong or not?” Shizuo asked, frowning. Carefully, he lifted Izaya’s arm to wash his sides.

“It isn’t wrong,” Izaya repeated. “It’s not right either. Anything that’s part of natural human history and development is just that — _human_.”

“That includes a whole lot of bad stuff,” Shizuo said with a snort. “Like war, torture, all that.”

“Well, it’d be ridiculous to equate homosexuality and torture. I’m sure even you’re not stupid enough to make that leap.”

“What I mean is your argument for why it’s not wrong doesn’t really make me feel any better,” Shizuo insisted.

He grabbed onto Izaya’s shoulder in an attempt to turn him around — he wanted to have access to the front of his body — but he misjudged the distance and the force required for such a feat. With a loud surprised grunt, he slipped off the slippery marble edge of the platform, diving head first into the bubbly foam. He was too anxious about the topic they were covering and that had made him awfully clumsy. A loud inhale of much needed oxygen, and he rose from the waters, foam streaming down his head and plastering his hair to his skull. He shut his eyes tight before the soap could burn them. The water was hot, warming his chilled body, and his muscles ached from the pleasure — it felt so blissful to be inside the hot waters, enough to make him forget about his predicament for a few moments.

High-pitch laughter reverberated through the large room, bouncing off the granite walls, and he felt arms around his shoulders. Izaya must have pushed off the edge of the tub to grab onto him for support.

“ _Izaya_ ,” Shizuo snarled in warning, weakly trying to swim away, but he couldn’t bring himself to push the man away. He was scared that Izaya would lose balance and submerge underwater.

“It’s okay, Shizu-chan.” Izaya whispered the words in a pleasant lull, ushering him to peace.

Reluctant, Shizuo put his arms around the body that pressed close to him, his eyes still shut tight. Supple fingers began clearing foam off his face, and Shizuo breathed, trying to calm his speeding heartbeat. All his efforts were undone when he felt Izaya leaning in to kiss his eyelids. Shizuo wanted to jolt away, but he felt as if he was rendered paralyzed, engulfed by hot water and trapped in Izaya’s embrace. Kisses slowly turned into licks, electrifying strokes of tongue that traced the contour of his closed eyes, the touch light as feathers. On the bare surface of rationality he could fool himself to believe that Izaya was helping him clean the soap out of his eyes, but the action was so much more intimate than anything else that ever took place between them, it crossed every imaginable boundary.

His heart fluttered inside the cage of his ribs as he let Izaya draw circles on his eyelids with his tongue. When he felt him pull away, to his much feared disappointment, Shizuo slowly opened his trembling eyes to the blurry image of a white grin.

His heart sank. The smirk on Izaya’s face was malicious, with a bitter tint in his darkened gaze. Izaya was _laughing_ at Shizuo, at his trepidation at his forbidden attraction. The promise of intimacy crumbled, dying in the light of such cruel mockery of his feelings.

“Don’t look so hurt, Shizu-chan,” Izaya said, laughter dripping from every word. He was still clinging to him like a baby, but even in a position where Shizuo could crush him within a second, he acted like he had Shizuo around his finger.

Of course, he did. Shizuo couldn’t do anything to hurt him back. He didn’t have the power of words, and the power of his fists was taken from him when it came to Izaya.

Swallowing his hurt, Shizuo focused on getting out of there as soon as possible. As roughly as he could, he pushed Izaya towards the edge of the giant tub and rubbed the cloth along his body, all his fears of being aroused by such an activity disappearing. There was no way he would feel attracted to Izaya when the man laughed in his face about it.

It was ridiculous that such feelings were ever present in him in the first place.

When they were all done washing (he decided he might as well take a bath now since he was inside the waters already), Izaya turned to him to say something that caught Shizuo even more off-guard than the false promise of intimacy Izaya pulled on him.

“You worry about being normal, don’t you?”

Shizuo said nothing, still angered by Izaya’s stunt. He dropped him on the bench, and Izaya held onto the stone, establishing his balance. Clean clothes rested by his side, and Shizuo curtly dressed himself, before he began dressing the other, his movements fast and aggressive.

“Don’t,” Izaya continued, not in the least bit affected by Shizuo’s stubborn silence. “You’ve always cared so much for the rules, for the laws of the land, but you should know by now that not every notion established in society is a good one. Take your most recent adventure, for example. What went down in those sewers isn’t illegal anywhere in the world except perhaps in Romania, but you think it should be, don’t you? Similarly, many men in this world love each other without harming anyone else, but so many laws consider it wrong just because it appalls those with the more conservative views. There are customs, there is tradition, but age-old ideas aren’t guaranteed to be right. Whatever your definition of _good_ is, Shizu-chan, it can’t be perfectly aligned with any given set of laws or unwritten tradition. You should only focus on what seems right to _you_ , as long as it doesn't hurt anyone else.”

Shizuo paused, Izaya’s shirt in his hands. The words were clearly meant as comfort, but for some unfathomable reason the leash around his heart only tightened.

“What about you?” he couldn't help but ask. “Do _you_ think it’s wrong?”

Izaya’s smile was nothing but creepy when he answered without hesitation, “No. I don’t think it’s wrong, Shizu-chan.” It reminded Shizuo of all the times Izaya smiled at him when he watched him crumble buildings and tear out trees from the ground. At least there was no disgust in his eyes, or Shizuo thought to himself as he lifted Izaya off the bench.

The way Izaya held onto him, his nose buried in Shizuo’s shoulder, was anything but wrong to Shizuo.

 

!

 

They slept as usual that night, Shizuo by his bedside. It was tempting to force Shizuo to keep him warm at night, but Izaya remembered how sleepless his night was when they shared the bed without the sleeping spell involved. He wanted his rest for his meeting with Ardan, and that concern placed above torturing Shizuo a little more on the issue of his forbidden feelings.

Dawn was breaking through the silky blue curtains when he pried his eyes open to the sight of pale sunrays coruscating off the walls. Shizuo was still asleep, his breathing soft and innocent, his face clear of any worry. He always looked so peaceful when asleep. Izaya was the early riser of the two, and he frequently had to find ways to wake Shizuo up without moving too much.

That morning, the book that he finished before he fell asleep last night seemed like a good candidate for the job. His aim was flawless, the book slapping hard against Shizuo’s chest.

Shizuo jerked upright, the blanket falling around him to reveal the span of his chest.

“Rise and shine, Shizu-chan,” Izaya chirped melodiously. “Haven’t you heard the expression they use here in the West?”

“What expression?” Shizuo grumbled as he clambered to his feet. His movements were sluggish, doused by sleep.

“The early bird gets the worm. As in, it’s best to wake early.”

“Well, the early worm gets eaten, a fate I wish had happened to you already,” Shizuo bit back. He was incredibly cute, huffing out his sleepy anger in an attempt of witty comeback.

They dressed and washed their faces and went downstairs to meet with Ardan in the dining area. The mansion rooms and corridors were bathing in a generous stream of light, the windows standing tall, allowing the sun to light up every little corner, and that was a stark contrast to the darkness they saw last night.

Ardan was a young man of about their age, his hair a mess of curls rich brown, reminding Izaya of a younger Shizuo. He remembered seeing this man in Shizuo's memories, as one of the two lords. His clothing, excellently tailored, fit him in a dandy fashion, of colors blue and gold, the same combination Izaya noted in Shizuo's memories. The young man greeted them with a wide white-toothed smile that bore no apparent malice, and Izaya matched it, albeit failing to hide the edge of his own smirk.

“How great it is to meet you, Mr. Orihara,” Ardan said, rising from his chair. He waited for Izaya to be seated before he sat back down again.

“My condolences, Lord Gaera,” Izaya said, nodding at a vampire to his left to take care of the drinks.

“Condolences? I’m highly pleased to see you!” Ardan seemed to misunderstand him. They were alone at the table; Izaya didn’t know if the household was still asleep, or if Ardan cleared the time to talk to him privately. Somehow, he suspected it to be the latter.

“Oh, I was offering them on the cause of the funeral wake held here last night… I did not know your father, but I’m sure he was a great man.”

Ardan blinked, green eyes aglow with surprise. “I wasn’t aware that you arrived early enough to catch the wake. My servant staff informed you of my father’s passing?” He threw a curious look to the three vampires lined up at the end of the room, as if wondering the truth of his own guess.

“Ah, no. I simply inferred it from the fact that you’re sitting at the table’s head seat and the fact that you seem to be quite the ambitious young man,” Izaya hinted, expecting the young lord to be appalled, but his words were met only with astonishment.

“Excellent observational skills.” Ardan recuperated quite fast, pulling his lips into a smile again. “But let us not dwell on the past. My father was an old man, and old people do not live long in this world. Tell me, Izaya—Could I call you Izaya?”

“It’s of no difference to me,” Izaya said with a light shrug.

Ardan gave him a satisfactory nod. “I prefer your first name, since it sounds so exotic around here. So tell me, Izaya, given a man of your observational skills… you must have figured out a few inconvenient truths by now, is that not so?”

“I do love the phrasing that you’ve used — truths _can_ be inconvenient,” Izaya smiled, then deflected the question by throwing his own. “I was told that you were expecting me. Do you have something for me, Lord Gaera?”

“Please, call me Ardan,” the young man waved his hand, eager to establish familiarity. “I do indeed. I would like to confess to something, Izaya.”

“I am not a priest of your religion,” Izaya said with a light chuckle. "I'm not looking for that type of confessions."

“What if I confess to a murder?”

Izaya’s hand froze, a fork up in the air. The air turned brisk with tension, Shizuo’s chair scuffing against the wooden floor when he pushed back. His understanding of English was near perfect by now, and of course, he correctly guessed which murder Ardan might be referencing to — he wasn’t an idiot, contrary to Izaya’s continuous remarks on that front. Izaya intercepted his worried glance and shook his head.

“I should inform you of your rights before you do that, Lord Gaera,” Izaya said slowly as he continued his breakfast, chewing down on a piece of ham. “Once you inform me of your involvement in any crime, that information can never leave my mind. That means it’s accessible by the Guild of Informants, and no witch can mess with an informant’s mind to alter the things that he knows. In essence, I can hold no secrets when it comes to the laws of the land.”

“I’m well aware of the intricacies of the most common legal system in the world,” Ardan laughed, not in the least bit discouraged by the warning. “Luckily, such a thing isn’t a concern when your investigation was force closed by the Guild that stands above yours. I trust you’ve been visited by an Inspector by now.”

“Indeed. You have powerful allies, Lord Gaera,” Izaya nodded.

“I should ask — why is it that you’re wasting your time on a case that you know you can’t bring closure to?”

“Curiosity…killed the cat?” Izaya offered with a wide smile, using the proverb that was well known in the West. “In Japan, we like to say 見たいが病 *, wanting to see is a... weakness." 

“Yes, yes, how appropriate!” Ardan said, eyes lighting up with agreement. “And yet, I feel an affection for inquiring minds. Young men like us, we have to busy ourselves with things that interest us. That’s why I was hoping that you would pay me a visit. I’m going to be upfront with you, Izaya, and tell you that I did, in fact, order the murder of Lord Lorest.”

At the prospect of finally hearing the truth Izaya’s heart sped up, and he bit his lower lip in excitement. “A quarrel over that vampire arena you have going? Does money really mean that much to you?”

“Oh, you know that much already! Your other guess is wrong, however. Money means little to me, which shouldn’t be a surprise. I have it in abundance. I have always been puzzled by the fact that so many wealthy men seem to get entangled in fears of losing their fortune. They worry about it so much, they spend the rest of their lives stockpiling silver and gold, with no end in sight.”

“And you’re not scared to end up in the streets?” Izaya found that hard to believe, considering the luxuries the young man had to have grown up with. “To lose the comfort of your mansion, the care from your vampire slaves?”

“I wouldn’t say that such a scenario is pleasant to me. But it defeats the purpose of money and opulence, to live your life in stress about it. I would prefer to enjoy my life while I’m still alive.”

“It would be hard to argue with you there,” Izaya said, hiding his waning interest. Hedonists were interesting to him for a while, until he grew bored of them.

“Anyway, it was indeed over the fighting ring,” Ardan continued. “Lord Lorest wanted to shut it down, and that went against my plans,” he said with a crease in his nose. “He founded it himself about a year ago, but things had changed within him. His daughter… seemed to have shifted his mind on the project. Who would have thought that women could hold so much power? We always underestimate them, delegating them to the mundanes of house care, but they do know how to lead men.”

Izaya nodded. “I’m afraid Japan is no different in that regard. Every sword has its sheathe, and so on. Myself, I never really considered women to be in a separate category from men. Man or woman, it’s a human no matter how you look at it.”

“That’s admirable,” Ardan said, though he didn't seem particularly enthused by Izaya's ideas of equality. “I hear that Northmen have the best ideas over the equality of sexes. It’s no wonder that they have the most powerful witches in the world, and their women even fight their wars.”

“A war is a big word for the raids that they do,” Izaya remarked, aware of the primitive angles of a North society. They weren’t above attacking defenseless monasteries, sweeping all the gold and silver they could find. Greed for riches and glory, too boring for his interests. “So you were displeased with Lord Lorest and ordered his killing. Was bloodshed necessary? Was there no other way to resolve the conflict?”

“’m afraid not. He wouldn’t listen to reason, and he was planning to expose our little enterprise to the public. Can you imagine the outrage of the vampiric population of Killarney? That had to be avoided no matter the cost.”

“And why tell me this? If no one talked, I would have had to move on eventually.”

Ardan scoffed, slipping up a little and baring his teeth in a smirk that Izaya hadn’t seen on him before. “We both know that’s not true. I would rather turn you into an ally, seeing how the county of Kerry is under your informant jurisdiction.”

From across the table, Izaya could almost feel the rapidly growing discomfort of the blond man that was indentured to him. Shizuo rarely talked during the times he considered Izaya’s business, but given the nature of the conversation, it was a miracle he hadn’t lunged at Ardan with his hands reaching for the man’s throat. Izaya caught his angered glance, the maelstrom in Shizuo’s eyes reflecting the amount of disdain he was feeling right then.

“動くな **,” Izaya issued an order, ignoring the look of death Shizuo sent his way at the command uttered in Japanese, then turned to Ardan again. Ardan cast a curious glance at Shizuo, but didn’t seem to linger on his frame for too long. He was too consumed in the deal he thought he was about to seal. “I’m not in the habit of making allies, you see. What would you offer me to change my mind?”

“What interests you, Izaya Orihara?” Ardan asked, leaning forward over the table. His green eyes narrowed under the harsh assault of sunshine when his face left the shadow cast by a nearby column. “Money, power? Women? A powerful witch to heal your legs?”

“I don’t have an interest in any of the things you’ve mentioned,” Izaya said, leaning back against his chair. His arm was draped over the back of it, as he lazily scanned the eagerness displayed on the young man’s face. ”I’m a free man, you see. If I were commanded by any of those desires, how could I go around the world observing as a neutral party?”

Ardan lost a fair share of his enthusiasm at the word neutral. “Was I wrong about you?” he wondered, his voice betraying a flicker of doubt. “Are you all that concerned about neutrality, the original motto of your Guild?”

“Neutrality is a tricky word, you see,” Izaya said, dispelling some of the tension that hung in the air with the melody of his laugh. “True neutrality would cover both sides of the coin, don’t you think? Good and evil, pain and pleasure, truth and lies, crime and punishment… as far as I know, that is humanly impossible. Keyword on humanly.”

“Justice,” Ardan cut him off, impatience wrinkling through his smooth features, “is a myth. A man of your smarts should certainly realize that much.”

“Very true. I consider myself above any laws, of any country. That sounds ironic coming from a man of the law, doesn’t it?”

“Then side with me. I am not looking to corrupt your work, I’m well aware of how things work. Informants are bound by magic to do their job without bias, seeing how they cannot easily turn away a citizen seeking answers and how they can’t deliver falsehoods. All I want is your service for other purposes. You won’t feel bound to report on Lord Lorest’s murder; that investigation was shut down already. Legally, you hit a dead-end there a long time ago. But I can show you the truths that never surfaced, and in return I want to be able to hire you, of course, whenever your schedule allows.”

It was far from the first time a powerful man had offered a similar deal to him. Izaya watched the young lord with fake interest, eagerly nodding as the man spoke. Plenty of informants had used their powers for this sort of moonlighting, and Izaya wasn’t exception. He had done similar favors in exchange for something that interested him. He had used his powers to seek out truths that weren’t related to any legal disputes.

“Sure,” he drawled after a short pause. “That sounds like fun, _Ardan_ ,” he stressed the young man’s name, much to Ardan’s visible satisfaction. “You know what I want.”

“The entire story, right?” Ardan asked. “Yours is a curious mind, and you want to know the full extent of what actually had happened while you were gone from Killarney.”

Izaya nodded, and something twisted within chest when he caught the murderous glare of the man in front of him. It was the first time Shizuo had directly witnessed him signing up for something like this, and Izaya knew the next few days were going to be a real ordeal. Dealing with an angry Shizuo had always been quite the ride.

He issued another calming order, in Japanese, of course, because he didn’t want Ardan to glean the nature of their relationship. He then turned to the young lord again, eager to align the next piece of the puzzle.

“So now that we did away with the pleasantries, do you care to enlighten me as to where the young miss might be?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * mitai ga yamai, lit. wanting to see [is an] illness
> 
> ** ugoku na, lit. don't move/freeze
> 
> Back from my long break.. hopefully the readers of this story are still around! I know not much happened in this chapter, but it was important to me to lay out Shizuo's struggles with his exposed feelings and also to introduce Ardan into the story. The next chapter promises more action, and the story will be resolved within the next three chapters as originally planned.


	10. Chapter 10

“…do you care to enlighten me as to where the young miss might be?”

Before their departure to the Gaera estate, Izaya knew that Aira’s absence was something out of the established ordinary. The girl would never fail to find him in the morning to drill him about the ongoing progress, growing more and more impatient by the day. Time seemed to be a constraint in her mind, though she refused to confirm or deny that when Izaya prodded her on that matter. Seeing how the next piece of the puzzle seemed to lie with the Gaera family — them being the last people to see Lord Lorest alive and Ardan appearing in Padraig’s memories — Izaya had little doubt that Ardan might know a lot more than he had let on.

The young lord was not the most skillful in maintaining a facade. His nose wrinkled ever so slightly at the insinuation, because he had obviously hoped that Izaya would let him lead the conversation after their newly formed theatre of an alliance.

“I don’t have the slightest idea of what you’re talking about. I don’t have any sisters, you see, only bro—”

“Ah, would you stop that?” Izaya smiled with a hint of condescension. “Our joining of forces is a trade of information, and I’d like you to pay upfront. I shall ask again. Where is Aira Lorest?”

Ardan dropped all manner of smiles, his green eyes growing cold in their stare. “She’s been… taken care of. The girl didn't realize the games she was playing.”

Before Izaya could ask him to elaborate on the phrasing, the table sank under his elbows, and his mind belatedly caught up on the crack that was born under Shizuo’s fists. He pushed off the edge of the table with both of his hands, in a helpless attempt to avoid the destruction about to rain, but luckily, one of the lesser vampires came to his aid and pulled the chair out for him. Ardan let out a loud yelp as he flew from under the crumbling table, his eyes darting to the vampires that stood by the entrance.

“Izaya!” Shizuo roared, as he struggled to stand up, fighting against the spell and throwing away his chair far behind him. The chair met the stone wall with a loud creak, collapsing against one of the paintings of grapes and oranges, knocking it off and down the wall. “We need to talk, _now_!”

Insubordination, that was what Izaya was witnessing. He ordered his servant to be still, and yet Shizuo was fighting off the spell, evidenced by the way his eyes were shot with blood and veins bulged throughout his face. The most unappealing sight… Or was it the most beautiful, when it came to his very own Shizuo?

If it wasn’t for the sight of pure undistorted rage that was attempting to shatter the strongest binding magic, Izaya would have probably let Shizuo pass out from the conflict he was feeling within himself. Insubordination required a punishment, and he felt an inkling of anger when Shizuo interrupted at the juiciest moment, but nothing in his life seemed to matter more than the heightened emotions he got to feel and witness around his somewhat tamed monster.

“Okay,” he surrendered amiably, the only one calm in the entire room. His legs were still dangling a bit from the inertia from the time his chair was pushed far back, and he felt like a child again, amidst silly adults whom he had to observe despite wishing for better, more interesting subjects.

The vampires were thrilled, eyeing Shizuo with unadulterated awe, but none moved to intercept him, for Shizuo hadn’t made a single step. Beasts had always either admired or were terrified of Shizuo.

Ardan had taken a few steps back, his palm wrapped awkwardly around his hip, as if he regretted coming down to breakfast without his sword. He was now taking a careful look at Shizuo, realizing that Izaya’s servant might not be just a servant after all.

And Shizuo, well, Shizuo looked wild, like an animal desperate to break out of its cage. The spell's chains loosened as soon as a word as simple as “okay” was uttered, since both of them knew exactly what Izaya had meant with that. Unfortunately, such cooperation startled him into silence.

Izaya turned to Ardan. “Excuse us for the time being,” he smiled as if nothing had happened. “I need to converse with my companion. And if you’d like reimbursement for the furniture, please write me a bill.”

 

!

 

“I’m impressed,” Izaya said when Shizuo lowered him on the bed. He looked quite a bit less angry then, perhaps hushed by Izaya’s decision to listen to him and talk instead of enforcing further commands. “You’re getting better and better at disobeying my orders. Maybe within a year you’ll break off our contract altogether. That’d be an uproar in the magic world, wouldn’t it? A _mere human_ breaking a high level spell… Of course, you’re far from being a human, but they wouldn’t know it.”

Shizuo winced at the words, then plopped down on the floor, his back against the bed. His body was trembling — it was almost imperceptible, but Izaya’s intelligent eye caught the smallest of details. Poor guy was still coming off the effects of the spell, it seemed.

“You know I follow you of my own will, too. Even if there was no spell…”

“If there was no spell, I wouldn’t be alive now,” Izaya said merrily. “The next time you blacked out in your rage, you wouldn’t stop with breaking my legs.”

“That’s not what I was—forget it! This is not what we need to talk about. That son of a bitch murdered Aira’s father! And he is responsible for the vampires being slaughtered like cattle, and what the hell does “taken care of” mean? What the fuck did he do to her? We need to find her, and—” Shizuo turned around, placing his elbows on the edge of the bed. “ _Izaya_. I heard you agree to something down there… what are your plans? I need to know, because I cannot—”

“I’m fairly sure I’m the one who defines what you can or cannot do,” Izaya said coolly. “Just because I go along with some of your wishes doesn’t mean I actually care about what you want.”

“Right, of course not.”

“As for what I intend to do, I’ve not clearly decided yet. I still don’t know the full story, because you interrupted me. Tell me, Shizuo, do you ever stop to think? If you had not intervened down there, I would’ve gotten Ardan to tell me Aira’s whereabouts. He was seconds away from telling me everything, and you just had to turn off your brain at the worst time. I even restrained you..."

Shizuo bit down on his lip. He was calm enough then that he understood and took in the ringing of the truth of Izaya’s words. How many times had Izaya scolded him like this by now? Ever since they began to journey together, he had fruitlessly tried to teach Shizuo the basics of simple rational thinking, all to no avail. Around Izaya, Shizuo was incapable of restraining his anger. He would lash out time after time, often shooting his own foot in the process.

“It felt like things were going out of control… You didn’t hesitate to side with that fucker.”

Was it because he believed in the worst of Izaya? Because he was certain that Izaya would actually ally with a human as boring as Ardan?

It almost seemed right to be offended, but Izaya preferred it that way. The world would rightfully turn upside down if a black and white monster like Shizuo, who operated solely on the concepts of right and wrong, believed that something was right about Izaya. Binary definitions were completely misguided, but if Izaya had to choose, he would choose between “interesting” and “less interesting”, and for now seeking out where Aira was promised to be more fun. If Ardan went through the trouble of disposing her, it meant that the girl was actually dangerous to him.

And how could a young girl like that be dangerous, especially now that her family was left lordless for the time being?

“I’m going to find your Aira, Shizu-chan. But I want you to know — I’m only doing so because I’m intrigued with the cobwebs the locals are weaving between each other. I have no care for her well-being, nor Ardan’s, for that matter.”

“Can I — if the time comes — ensure that she is safe?” Shizuo asked nervously. He looked endlessly tired, drained of life. His chin was buried in his arms, as he lumped against the bed. He avoided looking Izaya in the eyes, as usual, keeping his gaze fixed on the window. Such fatigue was a common occurrence in him every time he went through the gargantuan effort of resisting the spell’s chains. He needed sleep to recharge his vitality, which was a nuisance since they had only recently woken up.

The question itself irked Izaya. Damn Shizuo and his abundant care for any downtrodden soul they happened to encounter. He swatted away all too familiar feelings of jealousy that Shizuo’s attention was focused on the girl.

“I can’t tell yet,” he muttered. “Do you even realize the dangers of asking such a question? If I had the whim to say no, you wouldn’t be able to save her. If left unasked, you always have the free will to do whatever you please. Silly monster.”

“Shut up,” Shizuo mumbled in weak protest. Not a minute later he was quietly snoring, his head still over his arms. How could he sleep sitting on the floor with his head propped on the edge of the bed like that, Izaya couldn’t fathom. He supposed Shizuo was trying to stay awake; it wasn’t like he could just excuse himself in the middle of an important discussion like that to lie down on the straps of cloth on the floor that served as his bed.

He let him sleep, taking the moment to actually think about his plans now that the tension in the air dispersed.

By now, Ardan surely realized that Shizuo was far from a servant or a warrior or, what they liked to call them in these lands, a knight. Though the nature of the spell was probably still a mystery to him, any high lord was educated enough to recognize the magic involved. It was a high order spell, and the waves that tremored in the air when Shizuo was fighting the binding made it obvious that it was no ordinary spell, part of the more ancient branches of magic. The fact that Shizuo resisted surely tipped Ardan off that he was a very powerful man.

Coming to the estate, Izaya was never worried about his own safety — he had Shizu-chan, and even if he was alone, if an informant went missing or was murdered, it would attract far too much attention to something that Ardan had been trying to bury. So between the two of them, Izaya was not scared, and he supposed it was the same on the other end. Why would Ardan be scared of a crippled man?

With Shizuo’s display of power during breakfast, however, the young lord would most likely see the error of his assumptions. He thought he was welcoming into his mansion a cripple and, at best, one warrior, but he was dead wrong on both counts. His next step would probably be either go on the offensive, or keep treading the waters, waiting for Izaya to make his “first move.” If he was smart, he would go with the latter.

What if he was dumb?

Izaya’s gaze dropped on the blonde strands that bunched against the heavy ornate covers of his bed, Shizuo’s face further burrowing into the blanket as he quietly snored. His face clear of all worries… The man possessed a remarkable ability to always sleep so soundly. The only time Izaya remembered Shizu-chan to lose any sleep was when his dear brother was in danger.

He reached his hand out, gently brushing Shizuo’s bangs off his forehead.

If Ardan was an idiot, this sleeping beast would waste no second before he tore him to shreds.

A pang of jealousy prodded him in the back of his mind. He had always worked so hard to be the one Shizuo hated the most in the entire world. But now that they travelled together, there was a certain satisfaction that came with educating Shizuo with just how much worse people could act than a simple informant who appreciated watching people fall, destroy and self-destruct.

No one had it all, Izaya supposed.

 

!

 

Ardan wasn't that much of an idiot. He had sent a servant an hour later, who timidly knocked before delivering the lord’s message. As it was, the lord generously asked Izaya not to worry about any damages, and that he preferred the entire incident be forgotten. He further inquired if they could continue negotiations whenever the guest so pleased.

The wording of the letter carried a careful note of urgency under the courteous language. Ardan was impatient, perhaps even feeling a little trapped within his own mansion.

 _Good, good_ , Izaya thought, eager to see the young man dance under the violin of the fears his mind must have constructed on its own. Sometimes Izaya didn’t even have to try before people reverted to their weaker selves.

Shizuo awoke when the vampire page was dutifully reading out the letter. He rubbed his eyes and blinked sleep away, regaining his foothold on reality. For a while he didn’t realize that Izaya had messed with his hair, before he finally ran a heavy hand through his locks, ruffling them up in an instant, as if the state of complete chaos on his head was preferred by him.

Izaya shook his head, all his work undone. Though truth be told, he preferred the chaos as well; Shizuo looked highly unnatural with his hair all neat and obedient.

“Tell the young lord we’ll see him in fifteen,” Izaya asked the page. “And please have our horse ready for travel.”

A nice last addition to the message, to make Ardan even more antsy than he was already feeling.

Shizuo brought one knee to the floor, his back towards the bed, looking over his shoulder with a scowl. “You really serious about helping Aira this time?”

“This time?” Izaya looked appalled, but couldn’t bite down a smile. “I believe I’ve been helping her all along!”

“Right,” Shizuo sighed and steadied his body, bracing for contact. Izaya snaked his arms around Shizuo’s neck, sliding off the bed and feeling grateful that Shizuo caught his legs mid-air. There was always a certain worry in him that Shizuo would start acting up in the line of his duties. He could very easily force Izaya into humiliating situations, by not intercepting his idle legs or by not extending help with support. Luckily, the man’s sense of duty was stone-cut, and it probably never occurred to him that he could do such things.

“Don’t you worry, Shizu-chan,” Izaya said, wrapping his arms tighter, to a point where Shizuo’s neck was caught in a near choke-hold. “I think we will see the ending of this story rather soon.” 

Shizuo only grunted in response.

Ardan met them in the garden, and with inward laugh Izaya noted the steel latched onto the man’s belt. He couldn’t blame him — Shizu-chan was scary, after all. A number of solemn looking vampires lined up by the entrance of the nearby greenhouse, and judging by the leather armor, their fair skin and much more youthful appearance, these were the vampires that Ardan kept around to assist with supernatural troubles.

“Let us discuss further matters,” Ardan gestured them, his body language stiff and cautious; a stark contrast to the picture of pure joy displayed earlier at breakfast. He led them deeper into the garden where flowers of vibrant colors surrounded them by each side.

“Aira Lorest’s location, and other information you wish to generously disclose. Such as who exactly carried out Lord Lorest’s murder… Vampires under your command, I assume?” Izaya said, once Shizuo seated him on the stone bench. Strangely, Shizuo opted to kneel on one knee by Izaya’s side, as if anticipating to leave soon. He avoided looking at Ardan, which was uncharacteristically wise of him. He stared at the flowers instead, his face almost contorting from the intense frown he was wearing.

“Lorest’s girl is at Iliana’s mercy,” Ardan said, turning his back to the two of them. He stared somewhere off into the bright green fields, and Izaya took the moment to admire the embroidery of the man’s outfit. Gaera had an excellent tailor. “You’ve met her, I believe. She’s the local witch. Kindly agreed to assist me with the troublesome girl.”

“What was so troublesome about Aira? The fact that she wanted to see the truth come out?”

“No,” Ardan shook his head. “Well, yes, but not only that. The girl’s gone mental, awfully so. A year or so ago, ‘twas like a thread of her mind had snapped or something. She had changed Lorest’s stance on our little playground, and she wanted to go further. For some reason, she seems hell-bent on protecting the vampires of Killarney. Could you imagine?” he turned around in wonder. His thoughts carried him away, making him forget about the existing tension between him and the informant. “No nobleman or woman should concern themselves with the welfare of vampires.”

The timeline seemed to click somewhere. A year ago was when Izaya invested in Lorest’s business, and when he had _not_ seen the young heiress. But what would cause Aira’s sudden change of heart? She was a rather ordinary girl when Izaya had first met her. No hints of concern for social justice or even an interest in politics beyond the requirements for a young noblewoman's ability to carry out small-talk at balls. Did Padraig being a vampire affect her? Perhaps the young boy was turned into a vampire, and that shifted her thinking?… That didn’t seem to align, considering the fact that she barely cared for her childhood friend these days. He was now dead, but she’d probably barely react to the news of it - she barely grieved over her own father's murder.

Slowly, it seemed like Aira Lorest was becoming the most interesting part of the equation. 

“Still, I fail to see how she is an issue. If an informant can’t bring closure to this case, then no mere citizen can,” Izaya said.

“She’s a nuisance,” Ardan cut him off. “And Iliana insists that she will only bring more trouble.”

“How many first order vampires are at Iliana’s command?” Izaya asked.

Ardan shot him a questioning look, his arms crossed against his chest. “I wouldn’t know. I assume at least two, since she sent those after Jay Lorest. Is that enough information for you?”

“Eirik Sherrows…” Izaya licked his lips, wondering how much longer he could milk the nobleman. ‘Why involve him?”

“Ah, that fellow. The guy’s just a dupe. Doesn't know much, shouldn't really know anything... But he is the newly elected sheriff of the town so we have to work with him sometimes. Elections by popular vote,” Ardan sighed, as if the idea disgusted him. “The task of selecting a proper sheriff or witch should really be reserved for the noble families of Corkaguiny, our respective barony.” He shook his head, probably lamenting the fact that the rules were so backward in that regard.

Of course, he simply wanted to ensure further corruption… the blue bloods always strove to control the important threads of the fabric of the society they lived in.

“Sherrows simply needed to arrange a place to keep that young vampire that Lorest’s girl always fussed around with. I don’t know much about that. Iliana was in charge of that bit.”

It appeared that Ardan was just as much of a pawn as the rest of them, Izaya thought. Perhaps not a pawn, but a Knight or a Bishop. The Queen, the most important piece, was Iliana, in charge of most matters in the case. It was quite possible that there was no King behind the curtains, for a force as powerful as the Queen’s was enough.

“Thank you for your information.” His lips couldn’t help but curl in a derisive smile. “As per our agreement, I will consider moonlighting for you in my spare time. Have you any requests at this time?”

“Yes, actually,” Ardan said, looking relieved that the rain of questions had stopped. He had obviously hoped to lead the conversation from the very start, and that was why Ardan was a complete novice at this.

You never opened a card game with your best card. You teased it, saved it for the mid- or late game, only played it after you had sucked the opponent sufficiently dry. Once you got good enough, you didn’t even need a good card to play, bluffing your way around the table. So the moment Ardan decided to spill the fact that he did in fact kill Lord Lorest was the moment he lost. He took Izaya for an ordinary human, expecting him to be startled or terrified with that information and use that for momentum, but he could not be further from wrong. It was akin to sacrificing your Queen in a game of chess, hoping to gain enough momentum from the confusion in the opponent, but Izaya was far too skilled at the game to take that sacrifice for anything other than it was — an idiotic move that destroyed the potential for a good game.

“There will be a ball in the town soon,” Ardan said, his eyes flitting nervously towards Shizuo. Perhaps he wanted to the conversation to be private. The vampires nearby certainly had the hearing to eavesdrop on them, but since they were bound to serve the Gaera estate, Ardan rightfully saw them as no more than shadows. “A few days from now. I would like you to attend it. It’s a trifle matter, but it had been on my mind and I’d like to see it resolved there.”

“Sheesh, that will be a blast for me,” Izaya laughed. “A legless man attending a ball.”

Ardan blinked, as if the thought had just occurred to him. “Sure,” Izaya hurried to agree before the young man said anything else. “I shall be there. Send my invitation to the Lorest estate, will you?” he chuckled, knowing that the irony would unsettle Ardan.

“I assume you shall be taking your leave now?” Ardan asked. “You asked for your horse.”

Izaya placed his hand on Shizuo’s shoulder. “Yes. This has been a real pleasure,” he lied and bowed his head, just like he customarily did back in Japan.

The only interesting that had happened throughout their brief stay at the Gaera’s was Shizu-chan’s fit.

 

!

 

They journeyed back, their conversation mostly made of Izaya’s jokes and Shizuo’s huffs in return.

Shizuo felt more at ease with the recent information. They had a real lead this time, it seemed, and he encouraged Swallow to gallop faster whenever she could. Wherever Aira was, she was definitely in trouble. It was possible that she was dead, but Izaya reassured him that it was nigh impossible that she was.

“Two deaths within the same family, one after another,” he mused. “Highly unlikely Iliana would go for such a move. She could orchestrate the girl’s suicide, sure… and it would make sense. A grieving daughter unable to cope with the loss of a dear father and the duties of running a House. But I doubt it, it’s a bit too macabre of an ending. My guess is Iliana will simply bind her mind to do her bidding. No blood and pure gain in return. A much better move, don’t you think?”

His head was thrown back against Shizuo’s shoulder as he talked, talked way too much. Such a scenario worried Shizuo, and his thoughts darted back to the beautiful redhead that seemed to be the villain of these events, the one that he kissed like an idiot, thinking that she meant well. His gut wrenched at the memory of her bray of a cackle, thinking about all the possible things the witch could have in store for Aira.

“What are the witch’s motives for this? I mean, Ardan I can somehow see, money and power from running that shit. Maybe blackmail or something that results from participating in such things,” Shizuo grumbled thoughtfully. “But it seems like the witch is running everything. Is she in it for money as well?”

“Look at you, using your head for something other than just existing,” Izaya’s voice lilted in an irritating teasing melody. “I’d say she is in it for the power. Witches are hooked on power. They honestly might be the hungriest people I encounter. They lust pretty much after everything, depending on their priorities.”

“It sounds like they are hella dangerous then,” Shizuo said. “Should they really have legal power?”

“Well, the law of magic still rules above them, in them… There are certain procedures, and things they cannot disobey. They cannot willfully harm another human, for example. But that is on paper… There are exceptions for when their hands are untied, and then it is left to the power of a person’s interpretation. Self-defense is such case, right? Some people are such masterful liars that they craft things out of pure air and manipulate the world in such a way that they believe they are doing the right thing. No one is a villain in their own right mind, Shizu-chan.”

“You think?” Shizuo said, wondering if that was true. He thought he did bad things. He wasn’t downright a villain, but he wouldn’t call himself good either.

“And then there is the problem of the Red Veil of Silence…”

“Huh? What’s that?”

“Oh, it’s just a rumor that I suspect is true. It tells of a secret pact among most witches not to report on one another for whatever misconduct they might witness. To investigate a witch, you need another witch, right?”

“Why can’t someone like you just read their mind and intentions? That’s what we do for all citizens.”

“That is a fruitless endeavor,” Izaya laughed out loud. “Their minds are these elaborate inescapable mazes, and you see _everything_. You see not just their intentions, but a myriad of other plausible intentions. There is no certain way to pick the thread that you can claim is the right one. Informants are useless when it comes to finding out the truth about a witch, at least with the power that we’re granted with. That’s why the only real way to investigate one is through another witch, a tracking one. Tracking is a really nifty branch of magic that allows you to backtrace what another witch had played with. Wave after wave, the entire back history…”

“Geez,” Shizuo said, signalling Swallow to go faster. They had finally descended from the mountain track, and in front of them twisted a well-travelled road that led them back to Killarney. “I really think no one should be granted such powers.”

“Yeah, but then who protects the innocent?” Izaya said. “Someone has to defend us against monsters. It’s a tricky system though, I agree. Flawed, but that’s exactly how I like it.”

Shizuo said nothing to that, enjoying the crack of dawn that split the sky in two and the wind that came with Swallow’s swift gallop. It reflected the urgency he felt in his heart, that feeling of speed, for he was in a rush to get to Aira as soon as possible. Poor girl did not deserve the terrible things that had befallen her.


End file.
